Chapter 111 - Mourning Morning (Final) (Patreon)

Lucian entered a warehouse near the docks, following the instructions on the piece of paper Chen Yuan had given to him. Inside, dozens of servants moved up and down improvised platforms filled with valuables and decorations.

War prisoners helped carry heavier objects, while in a back room, groups of servants slept soundly, waiting for their new shift.

Perceiving everything through Qi, scent, and sound, Lucian also used his enhanced vision to inspect possible entrances and exits. He quickly noticed how every servant had a thin Qi line connected to a single point below the warehouse, somewhere in the basement.

Knowing who lay there, Lucian rushed downward, moving silently through shadows and dark corners without being noticed by the servants. Before long, he arrived at a tightly sealed door and narrowed his eyes at the Qi waves spreading through the talismans pasted across it.

Unsure how to enter unnoticed, he frowned and said, “Open.”

More than speaking to the door like a lunatic, he was informing the people inside that he had arrived.

A few seconds after his muttered command, the talismans pasted on the door lit up, and an undulating crack appeared across its surface as the stone door slowly slid upward, as though sinking into the rock itself.

Looking past the entrance, Lucian saw a simple chamber containing a cultivation mattress, a small garden, a bubbling cauldron, and two men.

One of them sat cross-legged on the cultivation mattress with severe burns covering his body. Lucian recognized Grandmaster Miao immediately from the blurry Qi lines and the dangerous aura surrounding him.

The second man, who was tossing herbs and strips of bark into the cauldron, was unfamiliar.

Prepared to flee the instant he sensed danger, Lucian stepped inside and nodded toward Grandmaster Miao.

“Fellow Daoist, you don’t appear tired despite such busy nights,” Grandmaster Miao said, his eyes closed.

Glancing toward the silent stranger, Lucian remained standing before Grandmaster Miao. He waited a few seconds, and when no attack came, he gave a soft smile.

“I assume Bo Qing can recognize me as a son now,” Lucian said while staring at the man’s bald head, every trace of hair burned away.

Suddenly, he noticed something peculiar. Narrowing his eyes, Lucian sent Blood Essence into his vision to inspect Grandmaster Miao’s forehead more carefully.

There was a tattoo there before, Lucian thought. Now there’s only a tiny vermilion dot. What is it?

“Speaking with you is almost as painful as dealing with these wounds,” Grandmaster Miao said with a wry smile, interrupting Lucian’s thoughts.

Lucian gave no response and merely continued staring at the cross-legged man.

Sighing, Grandmaster Miao waved his hand, and the stone door slowly closed.

Gritting his teeth, Lucian prepared to move at the slightest sign of hostility, but before anything happened, the unfamiliar man finally spoke.

“This brat is the one causing you trouble, Miao Long?” he scoffed, his voice rough and heavy with an accent difficult to understand. “I’m not impressed.”

Lucian turned toward him.

The stranger was an islander from the Great Sea, his bronze skin, short black hair, and muscular build revealing his origins. Bone ornaments decorated his neck and arms beneath the loose black robe he wore.

Scoffing, Grandmaster Miao replied, “You have eyes but fail to see the Mount Tai, Old Fang.”

Grumbling under his breath, Old Fang opened the cauldron and tossed more herbs inside while muttering a chant.

Lucian watched as Qi condensed briefly around the cauldron before tiny explosions sounded from within it.

Coughing, Old Fang lifted the lid again and scowled deeply.

“Only two,” he muttered, spitting phlegm toward the nearby garden. “You brought misfortune, brat.”

Not bothering to answer the man, Lucian narrowed his eyes and looked at the two round pills inside the cauldron. Through his Qi perception, he sensed them overflowing with Wood and Water Qi, while his nose picked up a powerful herbal scent coming from them.

Old Fang tossed the pills toward Grandmaster Miao, who used Qi to catch them before popping both into his mouth.

Observing that Grandmaster Miao did not chew the pills but instead allowed them to rest beneath his tongue, Lucian made a mental note to research the matter later.

As far as Xu Hua's memories showed him, this was alchemy, a craft just as difficult to learn as talisman-making or setting formations.

Then Lucian heard Grandmaster Miao speak in his hissing tone, “You won’t accept a cup of tea, nor will you discuss anything pleasant, I presume?”

Nodding slightly, Lucian replied, “I’m here to discuss our partnership in Three Feathers City.”

Laughing in disbelief, Grandmaster Miao shook his head and muttered, “Your guts are big enough to wrap up the sky, Fellow Daoist. How could I dare call you my partner?”

After speaking, he shifted the pills around in his mouth with his tongue and turned his closed-eyed face toward Lucian as though staring directly at him.

“Where are you from, Fellow Daoist Lu?” he asked in a far more serious tone. “You aren’t from the Great Sea, that much I’m certain of. Falling Stars Palace is a demonic force, but you are too aboveboard for them. And there is nothing beneath the Nine Heavens that would make the Ten Thousand Echoes Island accept you.”

Old Fang ignored the two men entirely and sat down to prepare more pills, while Lucian listened to Grandmaster Miao and shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter—”

“You are not from the Endless Desert either,” Grandmaster Miao interrupted. “The Vermilion Desert Sect cultivates Fire and Metal Qi, while those bald monks from the Everlasting Sun Monastery spend most of their lives beneath the sunlight. That doesn’t seem to suit you, does it?”

Furrowing his brows, Lucian remained silent and waited for Grandmaster Miao to continue.

“Also, none of the sects of the Golden Peng Empire would tolerate a bloodthirsty demonic cultivator like you,” Grandmaster Miao sneered. “Unless this is all an act, and you merely kill people and play with blood to deceive me. Honestly, that would fit those sects quite well.”

When Grandmaster Miao finally paused, Lucian spoke.

“This doesn’t matter. I’m here—”

“I suppose that only leaves the Forbidden Lands,” Grandmaster Miao said with a smile, interrupting Lucian once more. “Perhaps you belong to the Wing Calamity Cult. Those lunatics adore spreading disaster, and they use Water and Wood Qi. Or maybe you deserted from the Chained Desires Palace. I heard they can manipulate people much like you do. Tell me, are you a eunuch?”

Lucian waited for him to finish and said calmly, “You seem interested in provoking me, but it won’t work.”

Grandmaster Miao smiled and nodded.

“That’s the most distracting part, Fellow Daoist,” he admitted. “You cannot be from the Wing Calamity Cult because those people are easily enraged. You truly are a mystery. I can’t help but be curious. It’s just too difficult to focus on anything else.”

Resisting the urge to massage his forehead, Lucian glanced toward Old Fang, who was crushing herbs with a mortar and pestle, and said, “I can answer some of your questions so we may move on.”

Grandmaster Miao chuckled softly and nodded.

“That would indeed be for the best,” he said. “Then please, sit.”

Another cultivation mattress floated from the side and settled before Grandmaster Miao, while a small wooden table carrying a teapot and dried algae drifted from the back of the chamber and stopped between them.

“It will be an honor to learn more about you, Fellow Daoist Lu Xian,” Grandmaster Miao said, his eyes opening slightly and glinting with a cyan light.