Chapter 552 - 32: Immortals and Mortals

Yu Lian was sprawled across the tea table, flicking her forked tongue out of boredom and occasionally savoring the scent of the tea. Hearing Wang Ping’s sigh, she said, "The Xia Dynasty has long since fallen, so of course his life can be told as a story. Besides, haven’t you noticed? These people are the most interested in his tale."

As she spoke, she floated up on a small cloud, hovering by the window to look down at the stage in the hall below. "I remember when General Liu Yue returned victorious," she said. "When the storytellers recounted his deeds, the common folk were just as enthusiastic."

"Then later, when the Emperor convicted him of treason, the people seemed even more thrilled than when they first heard his story!"

As she spoke, she floated back to the tea table.

Feeling the enthusiasm of the crowd in the hall, Wang Ping remarked, "It’s human nature to care only for oneself. The Emperor, Liu Yue, the gawking commoners—they’re all the same. That’s how the world ended up in such chaos."

"Do you have a solution?"

"No. Not unless I completely eradicate human nature, but a world like that would be far too dull. The thought of a world without human emotion is terrifying."

"That’s true. The world is wonderful precisely because of its endless joys and sorrows."

CRACK!

The storyteller slammed his gavel, silencing the noisy hall.

"Ahem." The storyteller cleared his throat. Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, he leisurely picked up his teacup and took a long sip. Then he rose, clasped his fist in salute to the audience, and said, "When we speak of General Liu Yue, we must also mention General Wang Kang."

"Today, we shall tell his tale."

Just as the crowd was about to get rowdy again, the storyteller slammed his gavel once more.

"The story begins two or three hundred years ago. Back then, Qianmu Temple was just a dilapidated little Daoist temple with only three thatched huts and a master with his four disciples. General Wang Kang was the third son in his family. When floods ravaged the southern lands, his parents had no choice but to send him to Qianmu Temple, where he became the junior brother of Changqing Zhenren..."

As the storyteller mentioned Wang Kang’s name, he respectfully clasped his fist in the direction of Qianmu Temple.

Hearing that the story was about Wang Kang, Wang Ping’s languid expression vanished, replaced by unconscious, rapt attention. Sensing his emotional shift, Yu Lian floated over and landed on his shoulder to listen to the storyteller’s tale with him.

Half an hour passed in the blink of an eye. When the storyteller got to the part about Wang Kang’s northern expedition, Wang Ping snapped out of his trance. He picked up the now-cold tea from the table and downed it in one gulp. Then, with a quick word to Yu Lian, he tossed a piece of silver onto the table and headed out.

Yu Lian slipped into Wang Ping’s sleeve and asked in his Spirit Sea, "Aren’t you going to listen to the rest?"

"No. I don’t want to hear the rest of it."

"Life is full of joy and sorrow. How can you only enjoy the happy parts and deliberately ignore the sad ones?"

"Do you enjoy sad stories?"

"No!"

"Exactly."

"..."

Wang Ping strode out of the private room. As he went downstairs, he noticed the main hall was completely silent, and he unconsciously lightened his steps. At the entrance, he happened to see an elderly man, well past fifty, dressed in a blue cotton robe.

Their eyes met, and the old man clasped his fist in a polite gesture.

Wang Ping returned the gesture. They walked out of the inn side-by-side, and the clamor of the street immediately filled Wang Ping’s ears. His gaze was drawn to a flatbread stall, whose vendor was shouting louder than anyone else.

"You don’t like the end of the story either, sir?"

The old man had initiated the conversation, looking as though he needed to unburden himself to someone.

Wang Ping turned to face the old man. The man clasped his fist toward the direction of Qianmu Temple and declared, "General Wang Kang was murdered by the Emperor and dragged down by his own sect. A tragic end for such a peerless military genius!"

"You’re right. That’s why I didn’t want to hear the rest."

"Indeed."

The old man exhaled, then suddenly seemed to lose the desire to speak further. With a slight bow and a clasped fist, he merged into the crowd on the street.

In his Spirit Sea, Yu Lian said, ’Wang Kang probably didn’t have any regrets. In a way, he lived the life he wanted to live.’

Wang Ping didn’t respond. He caught up to the shouting flatbread vendor and asked, "How much for one?"

"Two cents!"

"That expensive?"

The vendor quickly sized up Wang Ping, then beamed and said, "Young sir, everything’s expensive in Zhonghui County Town these days. Why, even drawing a mouthful of water from a well in an alley will cost you one cent!"

Wang Ping nodded slightly, as if accepting the vendor’s explanation. He pulled two brand-new copper coins from a pocket in his robe. The vendor’s eyes lit up at the sight of the new coins. He took them, habitually weighing them in his palm, before using a pair of bamboo tongs to pick up a flatbread and hand it to Wang Ping.

Wang Ping took the flatbread and examined it. It was much more refined than the ones from when he first began his cultivation. The maker had sprinkled a few sesame seeds on top and left a crude plum blossom stamp in the center.

The taste, however...

’It’s still as awful as ever, but it does bring back memories!’ Yu Lian commented after having a taste. ’Let me have another bite.’

’Didn’t you just say it was awful?’

’I eat not for the taste, but to recapture my fleeting memories.’

’...’

’Are you trying to sound like that scholar neighbor of ours again?’

’Haha!’

The neighbor Wang Ping mentioned lived next to a small courtyard he had purchased in the western part of Zhonghui County Town. This neighbor was a Scholar who, whenever he was idle, would stand in his own courtyard and loudly recite verses he believed to be of great literary merit.

After finishing the flatbread, Wang Ping bought a few more snacks along the way. By the time he returned to the small courtyard he had bought in town, an hour had passed. Smoke drifted from the chimneys of every home, signaling that it was noon.

Over the past few decades, even the poorer families in Zhonghui County had gradually started eating three meals a day.

Arriving at the gate of his courtyard, Wang Ping found a middle-aged man in a green robe who seemed to be waiting for him. It was the very Scholar he had just mentioned.

The title of Scholar might bring to mind the image of a dashing young gentleman, but in reality, most were men over thirty.

Seeing Wang Ping return, the Scholar smiled and clasped his fist. "Yesterday, while visiting a friend, I came across a marvelous Go record. I’ve been itching for a game ever since I woke up this morning."

"Haha! Then I must see what kind of record this is!"

Wang Ping laughed, inviting the Scholar in as he pushed open his own courtyard gate. The moment they stepped inside, a commotion from the adjacent yard reached their ears. Wang Ping put on a surprised expression and asked the Scholar, "What’s going on over there?"

"Housing prices in the city have been skyrocketing lately. My mother did the calculations and decided we should just sell this courtyard, buy a new place in Yongshan County, and still have a considerable sum left over."

The Scholar gave a forced, carefree smile, then gestured for Wang Ping to join him in the thatched pavilion nearby, where a Go board and stones were set up.

Wang Ping played the game with ease and, of course, emerged the victor. The Scholar looked frustrated and wanted another round, but his mother’s impatient calls forced him to stop.

Wang Ping saw him to the gate, his eyes falling on the two horse-drawn carriages waiting in the street.

In his Spirit Sea, Yu Lian asked, ’What’s the point of mortals pursuing things like this?’

’It’s their life,’ Wang Ping replied. ’How could it be meaningless?’

After replying to Yu Lian, Wang Ping closed the courtyard gate behind him. He then strolled leisurely to a reclining chair in the center of the yard, sat down, and prepared to while away the afternoon in idleness.

An hour passed in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, an Identity Token appeared in the sky, causing Wang Ping to open his eyes.

It was Zhang Xinghuai’s Inner Sect Disciple Token!