Ch.3 This Venerable One’s Shige

>>warning: violence/gore involving children

Hm... since his soul had been transported back in time, maybe his

cultivation had come along for the ride too?

Mo Ran recited an incantation and felt the spiritual energy in his

body rush forth. It was abundant, but not strong. That was to say, his

cultivation had not carried over.

No matter. He was smart and perceptive, and blessed with innate

talent; he could just cultivate all over again, it was no big deal.

Rebirth was a blessed event of unparalleled proportions, some small

imperfection was perfectly normal. Thinking so, Mo Ran quickly

rearranged his gloomy and fierce expression into one more

appropriate for a sixteen year old youth, and cheerfully headed back

toward his sect.

It was the midst of summer. Horse-drawn carriages sped past,

wheels rolling, and no one paid any attention to the sixteen year old

Mo Ran.

Only the occasional village woman, taking a break from tending the

fields and looking up to wipe her sweat, would notice this

exceptionally handsome youth and stare a bit.

Mo Ran returned the stares with a smile and no restraint, until those

married women blushed bright red and looked away.

Mo Ran arrived at Wuchang Town around evening. The town was

close to Sisheng Peak, the towering peaks in the distance framed by

clouds lit on fire by the blood-red sun. He touched his empty

stomach and headed into a restaurant. Glancing at the menu and

knocking on the counter, he placed a quick order. “Shopkeep, a

pounded chicken, a plate of beef tripe in chili sauce, two catties of

soju, and a plate of sliced beef.”

This area was a popular rest stop, and it was currently bustling with

activity. A storyteller was on the stage, shaking his fan and telling the

story of Sisheng Peak in an animated manner, spit flying

everywhere.

Mo Ran picked a private room by a window, and listened as he ate.

“As I’m sure everyone already knows, the cultivation world is divided

into the upper and lower cultivation regions. Today we’ll talk about

the greatest sect in the lower cultivation region, Sisheng Peak. Did

you know that a hundred years ago, our Wuchang Town was a poor

and desolate place due to its proximity to the entrance of the demon

realm? No one dared to go out after dark. If they really needed to

travel at night, then they had to shake an exorcism bell and sprinkle

incense ash and paper money while chanting, ‘people barred by

mountains, demons barred by paper’ while passing through as

quickly as they could. But these days, our town is bustling and

flourishing, no different from anywhere else, and it’s all thanks to

Sisheng Peak’s care. This righteous sect stands right at the gate to

the demon realm, between the boundary of yin and yang. Even

though the sect was only established not that long ago...”

Mo Ran had heard this history so many times that his ears had

damn near grown calluses, and so he started glancing around

outside the window instead. It just so happened that right then, there

was a stall set up below where several strangers from out of town,

dressed in cultivator garb, were carrying a cage covered with a black

cloth as they performed streetside tricks.

This was much more interesting than the storyteller’s tale.

Mo Ran’s attention was drawn over.

“Come one, come all! Take a look at these pixiu cubs, fierce mythical

beasts tamed by us to obediently perform tricks and even do math!

It’s not easy travelling to perform chivalrous deeds, everyone spare

some tips and stick around. Come watch the first trick——pixiu

abacus!”

The cultivators ripped off the black cloth with a flourish to reveal a

couple of human-faced, bear-bodied monsters in the cage.

Mo Ran: “..................”

Just meek fuzzy bear cubs like these?? And you actually dared claim

that they’re pixiu???

That was quite the bullshit right there, only donkey brains would

believe that.

But Mo Ran’s views were widened soon enough, as twenty, thirty

donkey brains gathered to watch, cheering and clapping, drawing the

attention of everyone in the restaurant as well, making things quite

awkward for the storyteller.

“The leader of Sisheng Peak right now is a man known far and wide

for his strength and brilliance——”

“Nice!! Again!!!”

Encouraged, the storyteller glanced toward the owner of the voice,

only to find a customer whose face glowed red with excitement, but

whose gaze was locked onto the street performers below, not on

himself.

“Oh? The pixiu is doing math on the abacus?”

“Wow, quite impressive!”

“Good show! Make the pixiu toss apples again!”

The entire restaurant was laughing, everyone gathered by the

windows to watch the scene below. The storyteller pathetically tried

to carry on: “The master is best known for that fan of his, he......”

“Ahahaha, that light-colored pixiu wants to eat the apple, look at it

rolling around on the ground!”

The storyteller wiped his face with a towel, his lips trembling from

anger.

Mo Ran pursed his lips and smiled, leisurely calling out from behind

the bead curtain, “Forget Sisheng Peak, tell a story from 《Eighteen

Caresses》 instead, I guarantee it’ll pull everyone’s attention back.”

The storyteller didn’t know that the person behind the curtain was the

young master of Sisheng Peak, Mo Ran himself, and gathered all the

moral integrity he had to stutter out, “V-vulgar stories are not f-fit for

an elegant hall.”

Mo Ran laughed. “You’re calling this place an elegant hall? How are

you not embarrassed.”

A burst of noise came from below.

“Ah! What a fast horse!”

“Must be a cultivator from Sisheng Peak!”

In the midst of the chatter, a black horse galloped from the direction

of Sisheng Peak and broke into the streetside circus like lightning!

There were two people on the horse, one wearing a black bamboo

hat and shrouded in a black cloak, covered so completely that it was

impossible to tell their age or gender. The other was a thirty or forty

year old woman, with rough hands and a weathered face.

The woman started crying as soon as she saw the man-bears. She

scrambled off the horse and stumbled toward them, kneeling to

embrace one of them in her arms, wailing, “My son!!! Oh, my son—”

The audience was stumped. Someone muttered while scratching his

head, “Eh? Aren’t these pixiu cubs? Why’s this woman calling it

son?”

“Maybe it’s a pixiu mother?”

“Aiyo, that’s quite something then, if the female can even take on a

human form.”

These villagers had no knowledge or experience, and were only

babbling nonsense, but Mo Ran figured it out immediately.

Rumor had it that some cultivators out there liked to abduct children,

rip their tongues out so that they couldn’t talk, burn their skin off with

boiling water, and then stick animal hides on their bloodied bodies so

that child and fur became one once the blood had congealed,

looking just like a monster. These children couldn’t speak or write,

and had no choice but to suffer the abuse and obediently perform

tricks like “pixiu abacus”; any resistance would only earn them a

beating.

No wonder he hadn’t sensed any demonic energy, these “pixiu”

weren’t monsters at all, but actually living humans......

While he was thinking to himself, the person in the black cloak

whispered something to the cultivators, who flew into a fury.

“Apologize? That ain’t in my vocabulary!” “So what if you’re from

Sisheng Peak?” “Mind your own damn business! Beat him up!” They

pounced on the black cloaked person for a beating.

“Aiyo.”

Watching his fellow disciple get beat up, Mo Ran only let out a low

chuckle. “How scary.”

He had zero intention of helping out. He’d always loathed the

righteous and meddlesome ways of his sect, even in the previous

life. The lot of them rushed to throw themselves at any trouble that

cropped up, like so many idiots. Even some minor inconvenience like

Mrs. Wang’s cat getting stuck in the tree was something to bother

them with. The entire sect, from the leader all the way down to the

servants, every last one of them was a dimwit.

There were so many unfair things in the world, what do you care? It

was enough to tire a person to death.

“They’re fighting, they’re fighting! Hoh! What a punch!”

Inside and outside the restaurant, everyone gathered to spectate.

“So many of you ganging up on one person, aren’t you ashamed!”

“Watch out behind you sir! Aiya! Too close! Wah——”

“Nice dodge!”

These people loved a good fight, but Mo Ran didn’t care to watch.

He’d seen plenty of blood-letting; the events currently unfolding were

like a fly’s buzzing to him. He lazily dusted peanut crumbs off his

clothes and got up to leave.

Downstairs, the cultivators and the black cloaked person were at a

stalemate, swords swishing. Mo Ran crossed his arms and leaned

against the restaurant’s door, took one glance and clicked his tongue

in annoyance.

What a disgrace.

Everyone from Sisheng Peak was a fierce fighter, each the equal of

ten men, but the black cloaked person was a pathetic fighter. Even

when dragged off the horse, surrounded and kicked, the person was

still holding back.

They only called out politely, “Honorable men speak with their

mouths, not their fists. I’m trying to reason with you, why won’t you

listen?!”

Cultivators: “..................”

Mo Ran: “........................”

The cultivators were thinking, the hell? This person’s already so

soundly thrashed and still preaching that nonsense? He must have

mantou for brains, empty inside?

But Mo Ran’s face changed abruptly, his head spinning for a second.

He held his breath, eyes wide with disbelief——that voice...

“Shi Mei!” Mo Ran shouted and rushed forward, agitated. He let

loose an attack filled with spiritual power that instantly knocked away

five of the jianghu cultivator swindlers, and knelt on the ground to

help up the black cloaked person who was covered in muddy boot

marks, and his voice couldn’t help but tremble slightly——

“Shi Mei, is that you?”

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