23: Chapter 23 First Encounter with Jiang Ye

The caravan arrived at the riverside town at dusk.

The town was small, built along a wide river called “Jade Belt River.” A dozen or so black-awning boats were docked at the pier, their lights twinkling and reflecting on the river surface like shattered golden scales. The air was a mix of fish, moisture, and cooking smoke, starkly different from the crisp air of Zhongnan Mountain.

“We’ll rest here tonight,” the caravan leader, an elder named Zhou, told everyone. “We’ll cross the river tomorrow morning, and then it’s two more days to Jiangzhou City.”

Lu Mingyuan dismounted the carriage with the others. His complexion had improved somewhat, but the Noble Spirit in his Dantian remained empty, like a dried-up pond with only a few wisps of moisture. Elder Zhou arranged for everyone to stay at the “Yuelai Inn” in the east of the town, and specifically said to Lu Mingyuan: “Young Master Lu, your room fee is waived. You reminded us to bypass Qingsong Ridge today, this is our thanks.”

“It was just a small effort, Elder, no need to be so polite.”

“It is needed, it is needed.” Elder Zhou waved his hand. “The miasma on Qingsong Ridge claimed lives last year. The government posted notices, but some people still take the shortcut… sigh.”

Several tables of guests were already seated in the inn’s lobby. Lu Mingyuan found a corner by the window and ordered a bowl of plain noodles. While waiting, he looked out the window—the opposite bank of the river was a continuous stretch of hills, like the backs of crouching beasts in the night. Further in the distance, he could vaguely make out the outline of mountains, which was the direction of Longhu Mountain.

“Young Master is also going to Jiangzhou?”

A young man at the next table, who looked like a scholar, struck up a conversation. He was about twenty years old, wearing a faded blue gown, and a scholar’s box with worn corners sat on his table.

“Indeed,” Lu Mingyuan nodded.

“What a coincidence, I am Li Mo, also going to Jiangzhou to visit relatives.” The scholar, making himself at home, moved over and sat down. “Young Master has an extraordinary demeanor, are you perhaps going to participate in the ‘Jiangzhou Literary Gathering’?”

“Literary Gathering?”

“Young Master doesn’t know?” Li Mo was surprised. “The Jiangzhou Prefect holds a literary gathering every three years, inviting scholars from all directions. If one can take first place, they can receive the Prefect’s recommendation and directly participate in next year’s provincial examination. This is an enormous shortcut!”

Lu Mingyuan suddenly understood. If he were still the scholar single-mindedly pursuing the imperial examinations, he would surely be moved at this moment. But now…

“I am not going for the literary gathering,” he shook his head.

“What a pity,” Li Mo sighed. “If I could pass the examination, my old mother at home wouldn’t have to wash clothes for others anymore…” As he spoke, he pulled out half a hard biscuit from his Huai and nibbled on it with tea.

Lu Mingyuan looked at his faded cuffs, a slight stir in his heart. Once upon a time, he too had studied diligently in poverty, hoping to pass the imperial examination and change his family’s fortunes.

“Shopkeeper, add a plate of braised beef for this Young Master, put it on my tab,” he called to the counter.

Li Mo was startled, then his face flushed: “This, how can this be…”

“Meeting is fate,” Lu Mingyuan smiled. “Besides, I have something to ask—does Brother Li know about Longhu Mountain?”

“Longhu Mountain?” Li Mo thought for a moment. “I know a bit. It’s a Daoist blessed land. I heard the Tianshi Mansion on the mountain can summon wind and rain, and draw Talismans for Evil-Expelling. But we scholars always say, ‘The Master does not speak of strange powers, chaotic spirits, or gods’…”

“The Master not speaking of them does not mean he disbelieves,” Lu Mingyuan said softly. “The Master merely did not speak presumptuously, he did not deny their existence.”

Li Mo was stunned, lost in thought.

The plain noodles and braised beef arrived. The two ate and chatted. Li Mo spoke of Jiangzhou’s scenery, while Lu Mingyuan occasionally asked about rumors of Longhu Mountain. From Li Mo, he learned that not everyone could ascend Longhu Mountain. At the foot of the mountain was the “Welcoming Pavilion,” where one needed to be tested by the Daoist guarding the pavilion; only those with destiny could ascend the mountain to seek the Dao.

“Last year, a wealthy merchant donated a thousand taels of incense money wanting to go up the mountain, but was rejected,” Li Mo whispered. “The Daoist guarding the pavilion said his ‘heart was not pure, ascending the mountain would be useless’.”

Just as they were talking, there was a sudden commotion at the inn entrance.

Several people dressed as yamen runners came in, escorting a man. The man was chained, one-eyed, with a scar on his right face from the corner of his eye to his chin—it was Wang Meng!

Lu Mingyuan’s chopsticks paused.

Wang Meng also saw him, and a complex expression flashed in his single eye: astonishment, shame, pleading… finally turning into ash-like despair. He lowered his head, allowing the yamen runners to push him upstairs—the second floor of the inn had temporary rooms for detaining prisoners.

“Who is that?” Li Mo asked curiously.

“An… old acquaintance.” Lu Mingyuan put down his chopsticks, his appetite completely gone.

He hadn’t expected to meet Wang Meng here. Nor had he expected that, in just a few days, the man who had sworn to turn over a new leaf in the snow had truly become a prisoner.

After the yamen runners escorted Wang Meng upstairs, a middle-aged man who looked like a constable sat down in the lobby and ordered a pot of wine. Elder Zhou stepped forward to talk: “Constable Liu, who did you arrest?”

“Wang Meng, the bandit leader from Black Wind Ridge in Qingyang Town,” Constable Liu took a sip of wine. “This scoundrel was cunning, he escaped for three days, but we finally caught him in the reeds by the river.”

“Has he been sentenced?”

“Robbery and murder, a capital offense,” Constable Liu said indifferently. “He’ll be executed as soon as he’s brought back to Qingyang Town.”

Lu Mingyuan listened, and the thorn in his heart deepened a bit.

Compassion is a double-edged sword—he truly understood that now. If he hadn’t let Wang Meng go that day, perhaps those seven lives wouldn’t have been lost. But if he hadn’t let him go that day, what about Wang Meng’s old mother at home? Wang Meng’s choked voice when he spoke of his mother in the snow didn’t seem fake.

In worldly affairs, it’s hard to have it both ways.

Late at night, Lu Mingyuan returned to his room. He didn’t rest immediately but sat cross-legged on the bed, trying to restore his Noble Spirit. But his mind was restless, and he was interrupted several times from entering meditation.

The sound of chains dragging on the floor came from outside the window, along with a low cough—it was Wang Meng. He was locked in the adjacent room.

Lu Mingyuan got up and pushed the door open.

At the end of the second-floor corridor, a yamen runner leaned against the wall, dozing. The door to the next room was locked, and a faint light shone through the crack. Lu Mingyuan walked to the door and stood silently for a moment.

“Is that… Young Master Lu?” A hoarse voice came from inside the door.

“It’s me.”

There was a long silence inside. The chains rustled, and Wang Meng seemed to have moved to the door: “Young Master… I have wronged you.”

“Those seven lives, are they real?”

“…Yes.” Wang Meng’s voice trembled. “I took your silver, originally intending to go home, settle my old mother, and then join the army. But halfway there, I met my old brothers… They said there was a big score, and after that, we’d quit. I, I was possessed by a demon…”

Lu Mingyuan closed his eyes.

“What about your mother?”

“I sent five taels of silver back through someone, the rest… I spent.” Wang Meng choked up. “Young Master, I don’t ask for your forgiveness. I only ask that… after I die, if there’s a chance, please tell my old mother that her son was unfilial, and he will repay her in the next life…”

“Why don’t you tell her yourself?”

“Death row inmates… cannot see their families.”

Lu Mingyuan was silent. By law, death row inmates indeed could not meet with family members before execution, to prevent jailbreaks or collusion.

The yamen runner at the end of the corridor rolled over, muttering a few words in his sleep. Lu Mingyuan looked at the lock on the door, a thought flashing through his mind—with his current cultivation, opening this lock wouldn’t be difficult. But then what? Rescuing a prisoner? That was a grave crime.

But if he didn’t rescue him, would he just watch Wang Meng die, watch that old mother who longed for her son’s return not even get to see him one last time?

“Young Master,” Wang Meng whispered, “Please go. My path was chosen by myself, I deserve this.”

Lu Mingyuan didn’t move.

He remembered Xuanweizi’s words: “A Cultivator should discern right from wrong, know good from evil, but also understand human emotions and adapt to circumstances.” Laws are rigid, but human emotions are fluid. Wang Meng deserved to die, but his mother was innocent. Was it too cruel to let an old woman not even see her son one last time?

“When do you depart tomorrow?” he asked.

“At Mao Shi (5-7 AM),” Wang Meng said. “By water, down the river, three days to Qingyang Town.”

Lu Mingyuan had a plan in mind. He said no more and turned to return to his room.

The next day, at Mao Shi, the sky was just beginning to lighten.

The yamen runners escorted Wang Meng out of the inn and towards the pier. Lu Mingyuan stood by the window on the second floor of the inn, watching them board an official boat. The boat was small; besides Constable Liu and four yamen runners, there were also two boatmen.

Elder Zhou’s caravan also needed to cross the river, but they took a ferry, which was a different route from the official boat. Before parting, Elder Zhou said to Lu Mingyuan: “Young Master Lu, the osmanthus cake at ‘Zhiwei Tower’ in the east of Jiangzhou City is absolutely superb. If you go there, you must try it.”

“Thank you, Elder.”

The ferry slowly pulled away from the shore. Lu Mingyuan stood at the bow, watching the official boat gradually move away, his Divine Thought quietly expanding.

Under the Eye of Clarity, he could see thick Death Qi Entanglement around Wang Meng’s body—a sign of someone about to die. But within the Death Qi, there was also a faint trace of “regret” and “concern,” like a flickering candle in the wind, weak but tenacious.

“When a man is about to die, his words are good,” he sighed softly.

Crossing the river took half an hour. There was already a morning market on the opposite bank, bustling with people. Lu Mingyuan disembarked, not immediately heading to Jiangzhou City, but walking downstream along the riverbank.

After walking about five li, a dense patch of reeds appeared by the river. The autumn wind was bleak, and the reed flowers were like snow.

He stopped, took out his green bamboo staff from his qiankun bag, and drew a simple Formation on the sandy ground with the staff tip—this was the “Water Element Formation” recorded in the true classic of mountains and seas, which could borrow the power of water veins to conceal aura and interfere with perception. Although it was only a superficial understanding, it was enough to deal with Mortal yamen runners.

After drawing the Formation, he took out three yellow Talismans. Biting his fingertip, he drew three “Soul-Bewitching Talismans” with his blood—this was a variation he had comprehended last night from the Talismans Xuanweizi had given him, capable of causing temporary disorientation and hallucinations.

Having done all this, he sat cross-legged in the reeds, waiting quietly.

When the sun was high, the official boat appeared on the downstream river.

Lu Mingyuan opened his eyes, formed a hand seal, and softly shouted:

“Formation, rise!”

The runes on the sandy ground lit up with a faint blue glow, resonating with the river water. A strange mist rose from the river surface, slowly enveloping the official boat. The yamen runners on the boat immediately felt dizzy, and the scenery before their eyes began to distort.

“What’s going on?” Constable Liu grabbed the boat railing.

“Constable, it’s getting foggy…” an yamen runner rubbed his eyes.

“This fog is strange!”

Seizing the opportunity, Lu Mingyuan threw out the three Soul-Bewitching Talismans. The Talismans transformed into streaks of light, silently sticking to the backs of the three yamen runners. The three men stiffened, their eyes unfocused, standing motionless.

Constable Liu noticed something was wrong, drew his saber, and looked around: “Who’s there?!”

Lu Mingyuan walked out from the reeds, stepping on the water—Swimming Dragon Step left shallow ripples on the surface. He came to the side of the boat and cupped his hands to Constable Liu: “Constable, don’t be alarmed, I mean no harm.”

“You are… that scholar from the inn?” Constable Liu recognized him, gripping his saber tighter. “You want to rescue a prisoner?”

“No.” Lu Mingyuan looked at Wang Meng in the cabin. “I just want to ask the Constable for a favor, to let him see his mother one last time. After that, he is at your disposal.”

“Nonsense! How can the law be trifled with?!”

“Laws are not beyond human emotion,” Lu Mingyuan said calmly. “Wang Meng deserves to die, but his mother is innocent. Allowing an old person to see her son one last time is not contrary to the law and is worthy of sympathy.”

Constable Liu sneered: “What if I say no?”

Lu Mingyuan said no more. He extended his finger, drawing in the air—using Noble Spirit as ink, he wrote the character “ Certainly” (Ding, meaning fix or stabilize) in the air. The moment the character formed, a golden light flashed, and Constable Liu felt his whole body stiffen, unable to move!

“You… you’re a Cultivator?!” Constable Liu was horrified.

“My apologies.” Lu Mingyuan walked up to Wang Meng and unlocked his chains. “I can only give you one hour. After one hour, you must return yourself.”

Wang Meng knelt and kowtowed, tears streaming down his face: “Thank you, Young Master! Thank you, Young Master!”

“Go.” Lu Mingyuan pointed to the shore. “Your mother is in Willow Lane, the third house from the east end of Qingyang Town.”

Wang Meng bowed again, leaped into the river, and swam towards the opposite bank.

Lu Mingyuan withdrew his Spell. Constable Liu regained his movement, his face pale with rage: “Do you know what crime it is to rescue a prisoner?!”

“I did not rescue a prisoner,” Lu Mingyuan said indifferently. “I merely temporarily released him to visit his family. In one hour, he will return to face justice himself. If the Constable doesn’t believe me, you can wait here.”

“What if he escapes?”

“He won’t.” Lu Mingyuan looked at Wang Meng’s receding back. “A person with lingering concerns cannot escape.”

Constable Liu’s hand on his saber tightened and then loosened, finally letting out a long sigh and sitting at the bow of the boat. The four yamen runners gradually regained consciousness, looking at each other.

The river wind blew gently, dispersing the mist.

An hour later, a figure appeared on the opposite bank. Wang Meng swam back to the boat, soaked to the bone, but with a relieved smile on his face. He voluntarily extended his hands: “Constable, chain me up. I saw my mother, she… she’s doing well.”

Constable Liu gave Lu Mingyuan a complex look and re-chained Wang Meng.

The official boat slowly sailed away.

Lu Mingyuan stood by the river, watching the boat’s shadow disappear around the bend. He knew he had done something “illegal” but “reasonable.” This might not be the most correct choice, but… cultivation cultivates the heart, and if the heart cannot be at peace, how can the Dao be achieved?

As he turned to leave, he heard Wang Meng’s final shout carried on the wind:

“Young Master Lu—I will repay you as an ox or a horse in my next life—!”

The voice echoed over the river, gradually fading away.

Lu Mingyuan did not look back.

He continued walking east along the riverbank. Ahead, the outline of Longhu Mountain became clearer and clearer.

There was the Talisman art he wanted to learn, the Dao he wanted to seek, and the path he wanted to walk.

And this incident today would be like a seed, planted in his heart. When he encountered more difficult choices on his Dao path in the future, this seed might sprout and grow into a part of his own Dao.