A Pawn's Passage

Qi Xuansu’s words came from the depths of his heart.

At that time, aside from Zhang Yuelu and Madam Qi, Qi Xuansu was practically alone in this world, with no family or friends.

When Zhao Fu’an injured him, only Zhang Yuelu showed concern. The other Daoists present either ignored him or simply watched in silence as he had been beaten by an outsider. None of them even uttered a word.

To put it bluntly, if Zhao Fu’an had killed him that day, they still would not have cared. To them, it would have been no different from watching a stray dog die by the roadside. It was just another spectacle.

Qi Xuansu had seen enough of the world to not be disheartened by this. He could still maintain his composure. But if someone had stepped forward to help him at that moment, he would have remembered their kindness for a lifetime.

Ji Jiaozhen and Qi Xuansu had only met in passing. They were not relatives or close friends, so he had no obligation to stand up for Qi Xuansu. Even if he had chosen to do nothing, no one would have blamed him.

Back then, Qi Xuansu was an insignificant seventh-rank Daoist priest, unremarkable and lacking any powerful backing from a prestigious family or an esteemed master. He was also average in talent, nowhere close to a Banished Immortal. He was not even good enough to be a Qi Refiner, so he could only be a Rogue Cultivator. He had no exceptional qualities that made him stand out.

Other than Madam Qi, no one would have associated Qi Xuansu with the words “unlimited potential.” Even Zhang Yuelu, who saw slight potential in him, only expected him to progress steadily, nothing more.

Thus, from a pragmatic perspective, offending a powerful Garrison Chief Military Officer to defend such an insignificant Daoist was a losing trade.

Yet, Ji Jiaozhen had stepped forward, making it known he cared about Qi Xuansu being wrongfully injured.

First, Ji Jiaozhen visited Qi Xuansu, leaving behind two gourds of medicinal wine to expedite the boy’s recovery. Then, he intercepted Zhao Fu’an outside the city and broke his arm as punishment.

Even after doing all this for Qi Xuansu, Ji Jiaozhen never spoke of it, as he had no intention of claiming credit or desire for gratitude.

Qi Xuansu had to admit that while the Daoist Order had figures like Li Tianlan, Shen Yuzu, Zhang Yongyan, and Bai Yongguan, it also had people like Sun Hewu, Ji Jiaozhen, and Pei Xiaolou. For every Shangguan Jing who died honorably, there was also a frivolous scoundrel like Shangguan Chao. Thus, one could neither blindly praise nor wholly condemn the Daoist Order.

Ji Jiaozhen waved his hand dismissively. “Whether it was adding icing on a cake or helping one in need, that’s from your perspective, Brother Qi. To me, it was merely something done in passing. Nothing more.”

Qi Xuansu suggested, “Sage, please call me by my courtesy name, Tian Yuan.”

“Very well, then I shall call you Tian Yuan. But in return, don’t call me Elder Ji or Sage Ji. You may call me Brother Ji in private.” Ji Jiaozhen grinned.

Qi Xuansu found it a little awkward at first. But after thinking it through, if he followed Madam Qi’s generational rank, he was in the same generation as Ji Jiaozhen, so calling this old Sage “Brother Ji” was not entirely unreasonable from that point of view.

In truth, when a lineage existed for a long enough period, generational ranks could easily become messy.

The Zhang and Li families were the prime examples. Starting from Zhang Jingshu and Li Daoxu’s generation, their generational names matched up. The Zhang family’s Jing-generation matched the Li family’s Dao-generation, the Shan-generation to the Ru-generation, and the Shi-generation to the Fa-generation.

Further down, the Heavenly Preceptor Zhang Wushou and Imperial Preceptor Li Changgeng were still of the same generation, belonging to the Wu-generation and Chang-generation, respectively. However, things became more inconsistent with the next generations.

The Zhang family’s Ju-generation should have aligned with Li family’s You-generation, but the Li family’s You-generation was mostly composed of elders, while the Zhang family’s Ju-generation was primarily still middle-aged.

This age misalignment within one generation created disparities between the two lineages.

By the time they reached the Yue-generation and the Tian-generation, the confusion only worsened. It made sense for Li Tianzhen and Zhang Yuelu to be in the same generation. But Li Tianlan and Zhang Yuelu being of the same generation felt completely off.

Then, there was the Ming-generation—Li Minghuang, Li Mingzhi, Li Mingcheng—all of whom were technically a generation below Zhang Yuelu based on the generational ranks. Yet, Li Mingcheng had once been Zhang Yuelu’s superior, and Li Minghuang had nearly become her cousin-in-law.

To resolve these inconsistencies, the Daoist Order implemented a standardized generational ranking system: Yi, Yang, Lai, Fu, Ben, He, Jiao, Yong, Yuan, Ming, Zhi, Li, Zong, Cheng, Xin, Chong, Gao, Si, Fa, Xing.

This generational system began with the Yi-generation, corresponding to the Holy Xuan era, which included figures like Donghuang, Yan Feiqing, and Shangguan Wan. Elders above them, such as Elder Xu, were not counted in this system.

The He-generation was the sixth-generation Daoist disciples, which aligned with the sixth-generation Grand Master. Likewise, the Jiao-generation corresponded to the seventh generation, which was currently awaiting a Grand Master to take the lead.

Regardless of their personal family ranks, Qi Xuansu, Zhang Yuelu, Yao Pei, and Li Changge were all classified as the Yong-generation under the Daoist Order’s unified structure, which would be led by the future eighth-generation Grand Master.

All three Deputy Grand Masters were of the sixth generation. So, while Li Changgeng was only two generations below the Holy Xuan in the family lineage, they were actually five generations apart in the Daoist generational system.

The Daoist Order determined generational ranks based on a 24-year cycle. As long as one entered the Daoist Order within the same 24-year span, they were considered of the same generation, regardless if they joined in the first year or the 24th year.

Thus, figures like Sun Yongfeng and Bai Yongguan, though much older than Qi Xuansu, were still considered his peers.

In other words, Qi Xuansu, Zhang Yuelu, and Yao Pei were among the last of the eighth-generation disciples. Anyone entering the Daoist Order now would belong to the ninth generation.

To maintain this generational hierarchy, the Daoist Order established strict apprenticeship rules. Peers could not take each other as master and disciple, even if they were 24 years apart. Skipping generations in apprenticeship was also forbidden.

For example, even if Sun Hewu admired Qi Xuansu, he could not take the latter as a disciple. That was because Sun Hewu was a sixth-generation disciple, while Qi Xuansu was an eighth-generation disciple. There was a gap of the entire seventh generation between them.

With this system in place, the chaotic generational hierarchy was finally rectified. Of course, this sometimes resulted in two people only a year apart belonging to entirely different generations. However, that was still preferable to a 100-year-old elder having to call a newborn infant an uncle or aunt.

Among peers, it was common to address each other as brothers. Beyond the universal address, “Daoist,” one could also add “Daoist Brother” after a person’s courtesy name, title, or last name as a sign of respect and humility. Age was not a factor in this custom.

Even if someone was 24 years younger, they could address one another as “Daoist Brother” as long as their status was equal and they wished to show respect.

If their relationship was particularly close, one could also use the person’s courtesy name.

This was why Yao Pei frequently switched her way of addressing Qi Xuansu. In terms of family lineage, she could address Qi Xuansu as Uncle. In terms of Daoist hierarchy, she could call him Daoist Brother. Neither was incorrect—it simply depended on her mood.

In this situation, it was entirely appropriate for Ji Jiaozhen—being a seventh-generation disciple—to call Qi Xuansu by his courtesy name, Tian Yuan, because it was an act of humility. However, if Qi Xuansu were to reciprocate and call Ji Jiaozhen “Daoist Brother,” it would be considered disrespectful and against proper etiquette. Thus, he could only call the Sage “Brother Ji” when they were alone.

Strictly speaking, in informal settings, when not using titles like Sage, Qi Xuansu should add “Gong” after the first character of Ji Jiaozhen’s courtesy name to show proper respect.

For example, if Qi Xuansu were to become a Sage in the future, the ninth-generation disciples could address him as Tian Gong. However, this could be misinterpreted as referring to the Heavenly Lord, so alternatively, they could call him Yuan Gong.

Using one’s last name was avoided because it could lead to confusion. For instance, Qi Xuansu and Qi Jiaozheng shared the same last name. If both were in the same room, it would be unclear who was being addressed if someone merely called out “Qi Gong.”

Directly addressing someone with their given name was considered an insult. Only one’s parents or direct elders had the right to do so. The emperor, being the Father of the Nation, could also do it. For anyone else, addressing someone by their full name was akin to self-proclaiming an elderly, hence superior, role, which was a grave insult. Even people of high status would not stoop to such crude behavior. Of course, if two people were close enough and willing to joke about being “father and son” in private, that was another matter entirely.

Donghuang was actually a courtesy name, not a given name. In the past, Donghuang once enraged the Holy Xuan, leading to an incident where he had to seek forgiveness through the Holy Xuan’s wife. Even at the height of his fury, the Holy Xuan did not call Donghuang by his given name. The Holy Xuan merely shouted, “Li Donghuang, you deserve death!”

This alone illustrated how severe it was to call someone by their given name.

However, due to the Holy Xuan’s public rebuke, others followed suit. So whenever Donghuang was cursed or insulted, his courtesy name was used instead of his real name. Over time, this habit solidified. Due to Donghuang’s domineering nature and the many enemies he made, his courtesy name gradually became his de facto name. Thus, later generations referred to him simply as Donghuang.

Ji Jiaozhen spoke. “Tian Yuan, you’ve traveled all this way to Shuzhou. I doubt it was just to see me, was it?”

Qi Xuansu said, somewhat embarrassed, “Brother Ji, you have a keen eye. I’m still holding a grudge against Zhao Fu’an for breaking my arm. Though you have already avenged me, I still feel the need to personally settle this score. I’m not going to pretend this is about righteousness or morality. It’s just about venting my anger. To put it bluntly, I want my revenge.”

Ji Jiaozhen chuckled. “Being grudgeful is not necessarily a bad thing. Fairness is never granted freely. It is something one must fight for. If one repays resentment with kindness, then how should kindness be repaid? Kindness should be repaid with kindness; resentment should be repaid with justice.’”

Qi Xuansu nodded. “Exactly.”

The two continued conversing for another four hours. Ji Jiaozhen was curious about Qi Xuansu’s recent experiences, so Qi Xuansu recounted everything from the calamity in Jinling Prefecture to the completion of his training at the Wanxiang Daoist Palace. He omitted any mention of Wei Wugui.

Upon hearing it all, Ji Jiaozhen could not help but sigh in amazement. He finally understood how Qi Xuansu’s cultivation had advanced so rapidly.

When Qi Xuansu first arrived, it was still early morning. Now, it was past noon. Qi Xuansu was preparing to take his leave, as he hoped to reach Shuzhong Prefecture before nightfall.

At this moment, Ji Jiaozhen also stood up, intending to leave with Qi Xuansu.

Noticing Qi Xuansu’s surprise, Ji Jiaozhen smiled and explained, “I’ve stayed put here for over half a year, so I’m feeling a bit restless. I was just thinking of going out for a stroll. Since you’re heading out, I might as well accompany you.”

Qi Xuansu deeply appreciated Ji Jiaozhen’s willingness to help. However, this visit had only been meant to express his gratitude, just as the time he visited Pei Xiaolou and Xu Xiaoying. He had never intended to ask Ji Jiaozhen to intervene in his matters. If he truly wanted to bring in reinforcements, he could have invited Zhang Yuelu, Yao Pei, Pei Xiaolou, or even Lei Xiaohuan.

He had no desire to drag Ji Jiaozhen into this feud. Thus, he was hesitant about Ji Jiaozhen’s decision to join him.

Ji Jiaozhen said nonchalantly, “Don’t forget—I was the one who injured Zhao Fu’an, so I already have a grudge against him. It doesn’t make a difference whether I offend him further.”

Qi Xuansu knew that Ji Jiaozhen was doing this out of concern for him. Ji Jiaozhen was worried about him heading into Zhao Fu’an’s territory alone.

Understanding this, Qi Xuansu bowed in gratitude and said solemnly, “Thank you, Sage Ji.”