Chapter Seventeen: The Ancient Town

Following the direction Lin Weiyan indicated, I saw the massive stone gate slowly moving. The tremors just now had been caused by this very gate. As it opened, a short mountain tunnel was revealed, and above its entrance were three golden characters: “Valley of Immortals.”

It was truly astonishing—who would have imagined that this giant stone gate could open on its own?

“What are you waiting for? Let’s hurry inside,” Feng Zimo urged, unable to contain his excitement.

We passed through the pitch-black tunnel, and what unfolded before my eyes nearly made my jaw drop in disbelief. It was unimaginable: hidden within this stone mountain was an ancient little town.

The three of us now stood upon a straight avenue. Tea houses, taverns, pawnshops, and workshops lined both sides. In the open spaces flanking the street, vendors sheltered under large umbrellas called out their wares: “Candied hawthorn… Wontons…”

The street swarmed with people—porters carrying loads, ox carts delivering goods, donkey carts trundling by, passersby whispering in hushed tones.

If one took the towering gatehouse as the town’s heart, rows of buildings stretched outward, packed closely together—tea pavilions, wine shops, inns, butcher stalls, temples, administrative halls, and more.

In short, words could barely capture it: this place was nothing short of paradise on earth.

“It’s so vast here—how are we supposed to find Old Jiang’s master?” I asked Lin Weiyan at my side.

She seemed just as surprised by the size of the town, after all, it was her first time here too.

“I’m not quite sure myself,” Lin Weiyan replied.

I glanced at Feng Zimo, thinking he must know, since he claimed acquaintance with Old Jiang’s master.

Unexpectedly, Feng Zimo shook his head as well.

He admitted he’d only met Old Jiang’s master once, by chance.

Hearing this, I nearly coughed up blood in exasperation. Why had he acted so familiar before? My heart brimmed with contempt for him.

“If nothing else works, we’ll have to ask around,” I suggested.

Both nodded in agreement.

As for who should do the asking, Feng Zimo and I unanimously agreed Lin Weiyan was best suited. She was beautiful—that was her greatest advantage—and besides, she was a woman.

After much persuasion, Lin Weiyan reluctantly acceded to the majority’s will.

Here, I should mention: Old Jiang’s master was, in fact, a manifestation of the ancient Celestial Emperor of Ziwei.

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The Celestial Emperor of Ziwei, also known as the “Supreme Emperor of the North Pole of the Middle Heaven,” was one of the Four Sovereigns of Daoism. He ranked just beneath the Jade Emperor, overseeing the laws of heaven and earth, the movement of stars, and the changing of the seasons. It was said he could summon wind and rain, command spirits and ghosts, master all phenomena, and rule over countless stars.

…

After a round of inquiries, Lin Weiyan returned, dejected and crestfallen. Her expression alone revealed she’d come up empty-handed. I couldn’t believe it—how could no one know of Old Jiang’s master, whose reputation was so great? Something must have gone astray, so I asked her,

“No one’s heard of Old Jiang’s master?”

“That I know, beautiful lady,” came a voice.

We all turned toward the speaker: behind us stood a rakish young man. He was dressed with ostentatious flair, flanked by half a dozen henchmen—clearly troublemakers.

“Let’s go,” I said to Lin Weiyan and Feng Zimo.

“Hey… don’t leave now,” the self-proclaimed young master called after us.

Feng Zimo glared at him. “What do you want?”

The young master leered, “Nothing with you. It’s the lady I’m interested in.”

He brazenly pointed at Lin Weiyan, nearly drooling.

I was speechless. How could such shameless people exist in a place so beautiful?

A single rat spoils the whole pot.

Feng Zimo snorted coldly. “Who do you think you are? Get lost while you can.”

Hearing this, the young master’s face darkened instantly.

He snarled, “Get them! Beat them within an inch of their lives!”

He quickly added, “But don’t hurt my beauty.”

Six or seven thugs rushed forward, weapons in hand—some even brandishing knives.

Feng Zimo told Lin Weiyan to step back; he could handle these small fry himself.

But we were far too careless—ever since entering the Valley of Immortals, all our spells had vanished, as if by magic. None could be cast at all.

As a result, Feng Zimo was surrounded and beaten by seven or eight thugs. His handsome face soon sported bruises of blue and purple.

---

I couldn’t stand by and watch Feng Zimo take another beating. Snatching a paving brick from the ground, I charged forward.

Back in school, I’d gotten into plenty of fights—hence my poor grades.

I smashed the brick onto a thug’s head, knocking him out cold. But I knew this wouldn’t solve the problem.

As the saying goes, capture the leader to subdue the gang.

I eyed the young master, smugly watching the spectacle.

Turning, I dashed for him and planted a flying kick that sent him sprawling. Then came a rain of punches and kicks. Before he could react, I had him pinned beneath my foot.

He cursed me, his eyes blazing murderous intent—if looks could kill, I’d have died a thousand deaths.

“You dare strike me? Do you know who I am? I’m the eldest son of the Chen family!”

By now, the crowd watching had grown larger. The thugs, seeing their master subdued, dared not act rashly, but threatened, “Let our young master go!”

I pressed my foot harder, retorting, “I don’t care if you’re Chen’s eldest or Zhang’s—cross me, and I’ll end you, believe it or not.”

In truth, I was only bluffing. I had neither the courage nor the stomach for murder.

These were tricks learned from schoolyard brawls: you must make your enemy fear you, or they’ll return to haunt you.

The young master finally panicked, perhaps believing I really would kill him. He begged for mercy, “Spare me, hero! I failed to recognize greatness.”

“Will you bully people again?” I glared down at him.

He replied, battered and miserable, “Never again, never again.”

Only then did I lift my foot, barking, “Get lost…”

He scrambled up, helped by his lackeys, limping away.

But before disappearing, he turned to point at me, vowing, “You’ll pay for this, just wait…”

With that, he and his entourage vanished into the bustling market.

A round of applause rose from the crowd.

Lin Weiyan and I helped Feng Zimo up from the ground, asking, “Are you alright?”

Feng Zimo managed an embarrassed smile—this was likely the first time he’d been beaten so badly.

“No worries, just a few scrapes,” he replied.