A Pawn's Passage

Qi Xuansu’s thoughts were chaotic. Having absorbed an overwhelming amount of information in a short time, Qi Xuansu could no longer remain composed.

Previously, he had thought that the name “Xuansu” seemed tailor-made for him. Now, he suddenly realized that even his last name felt custom-fitted.

He had not taken Madam Qi’s last name—Yao—yet he had followed Qi Jiaoyao’s last name.

Judging from how Madam Qi had secretly infiltrated the Lingshan Paradise behind the Earthly Preceptor’s back to wreak havoc, her relationship with the Yao family was likely far from harmonious. If the Yao family were akin to the Eleven Great Witches, then Madam Qi would be like Wu Yang, the one who kicked over the fire. Though Wu Yang was one of the Eleven Great Witches, she stood apart from the Ten Witches of Lingshan.

In the past, Qi Xuansu thought that he had taken his master’s last name. But now, he figured that it was probably no coincidence at all.

This made him question what role his master Qi Haoran played within this entire time loop?

Surely, the bond between master and disciple could not also be false, right?

That thought alone was deeply disheartening.

Qi Xuansu put away the fish talisman, removed his hechang, took off the lotus crown from his head, and changed into an ordinary Daoist robe.

He rubbed his face with both hands to alter his appearance, using the Martial Arts Practitioner’s transformative techniques. Finally, he produced a pair of round sunglasses and put them on, concealing his eyes.

In the blink of an eye, Qi Xuansu reverted from the dignified Chief Deputy Mansion Master into an ordinary wandering Daoist.

Then, Qi Xuansu leapt into the sky, heading toward the flying ship port of Lion City.

It had been a long time since Qi Xuansu had bought a ticket and taken a flying ship, so this felt like revisiting the past. Though he had lived in Lion City for many years and people said it was his territory, this was actually his first time at the ticketing area, which felt unfamiliar inside and out.

Since flying ships required moisture, the farther inland one went, the fewer there were. There were no direct flights between inland states, only ships heading to Jade Capital or departing from Jade Capital to various regions. Anyone traveling elsewhere had to transfer there. However, coastal states were different. The abundant water sources allowed for direct routes between the states, so Qi Xuansu could fly straight from Poluo to Jinling Prefecture.

The ticket price remained the same—100 Taiping coins, regardless of distance. This was enough to deter most people. Thus, many preferred to travel by sea instead. Though it was much slower, it cost only 1 Taiping coin.

Although Madam Qi had vowed to leave Qi Xuansu coinless, achieving that perfectly was unrealistic. Qi Xuansu could still afford 100 Taiping coins.

Qi Xuansu bought a ticket from a female Daoist and queued up to board the flying ship.

It was a cramped little room, with a single bed taking up half the space. This made Qi Xuansu somewhat nostalgic for his own flying ship, which had been like an airborne residence with everything one could need. He had an office, a study, a meditation chamber, a bedroom, large and small conference rooms, a grand hall, reception rooms, sitting rooms, side halls, large and small dining rooms, guest rooms, a kitchen, a wine cellar, storage rooms, and quarters for Daoist attendants.

It was easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard to go from luxury back to frugality. Power was much the same.

Qi Xuansu had experienced this deeply. When he first rose to power, people calling him Second Deputy Qi, Chief Deputy Qi, or Sage Qi had felt somewhat strange. Now, if someone failed to use those honorifics and addressed him directly by name, he would feel insulted.

When he first assumed authority, the flattering, obsequious faces had made him uncomfortable. Now, a lack of respect felt odd. Back then, he disliked giving speeches, finding them tedious and hollow. Now, if he was not asked to speak, that felt unusual.

These little discomforts were no different from the flying ship itself.

Qi Xuansu lay on his bed, his thoughts still in disarray. He had no mood for cultivation and simply lay there, thinking about how he should begin the conversation once he met Madam Qi.

The reason he sought out Madam Qi first instead of the Heavenly Preceptor was because the latter was not someone he could meet whenever he wished. Though it seemed the Heavenly Preceptor was only one rank above him, in practical terms, there were five hidden levels between them—Chief Deputy Hall Master, Palace Master, Mansion Master, Hall Master, and Virtuous Great Sage—before he could become a Deputy Grand Master.

Thus, the procedure to meet the Heavenly Preceptor was tedious. He would have to apply in advance, wait for approval, then queue for an audience. In the past, it seemed easy to meet the Heavenly Preceptor only because he had been summoned along with Zhang Yuelu. Initiating a meeting with the Heavenly Preceptor was a completely different ballgame.

It took about half a day to get from Lion City to Jinling Prefecture by flying ship.

When disembarking, a young man ahead of Qi Xuansu stretched his back and shouted, “Jinling, here I come!”

He went on proclaiming that he would carve out a great empire for himself in Jinling.

Qi Xuansu merely smiled.

Everyone harbored dreams of being an emperor, but the age of emperors had passed. This was not a time of chaos, so how could he get an empire so easily?

At the very least, Qi Xuansu had never thought of Poluo as his personal domain. The last person who had thought that way, Wang Jiaohe, was now in the Ghost Kingdom keeping the Three Yin Beings company.

The era when youth meant arrogance, fiery ambition, flamboyant rebellion, and fierce striving had already passed. Now was an age of decadence, numbness, and despair.

Once the window for transformation was missed, there was no returning to it.

Without Madam Qi, what right did Qi Xuansu have to rise above others?

Qi Xuansu disembarked from the flying ship quietly. Back when he had investigated cases in Jinling Prefecture with Zhang Yuelu, he had run around this place often and was fairly familiar with it. He headed straight for the Gratitude Temple.

Although this was the territory of Zhang Jucheng and Lei Xiaohuan, Qi Xuansu had no intention of alerting them. He had come here for personal matters, not official business.

The Gratitude Temple was a legendary place, having appeared several times on the stage of conflicts between the Confucian School and the Daoist Order.

Originally one of the three great Buddhist temples of Jinling Prefecture, the Gratitude Temple housed a Porcelain Tower nearly 300 meters tall, constructed entirely from glazed tiles and known as the foremost tower in the world.

Today, the temple preserved over 6,000 volumes of Buddhist scriptures, and relics of the Buddha were enshrined within the Porcelain Tower. For this reason, monks from many sects gathered here, and numerous scholars also came to debate philosophy. One of the Seven Hermits of the Confucian School, Master Hu Chan, once lived in seclusion here before being slain by Elder Zhang at the Gratitude Temple. This was the first notable incident.

The second incident occurred when remnants of a former dynasty within the Confucian School targeted Donghuang. Afterward, the Daoist Order dispatched high-ranking Spirit Guards and the Three Yin Beings to suppress and hunt down those involved, which ultimately allowed Little Yin to obtain Unbound Thought brush.

After the upheaval at the Gratitude Temple, Donghuang met with the Holy Xuan, who rebuked the former for being arrogant, ignoring counsel, making unilateral decisions, and taking risks alone, bringing about his current misfortune.

But all of that were in the past. The Gratitude Temple was now merely an ordinary temple.

When Qi Xuansu arrived at the temple entrance, a monk stopped him and informed him that a small incense donation was required. In truth, it was simply buying a ticket.

Qi Xuansu had no choice but to spend 5 Taiping coins on a stick of incense to gain entry.

Five Taiping coins were no small sum—ordinary families could not afford it.

After finally entering the temple, Qi Xuansu contacted Madam Qi again via voice transmission. “I’m here. Where are you?”

“The Porcelain Tower,” Madam Qi replied.

Qi Xuansu headed deeper into the temple grounds, crossed the Perfume River, and saw the Porcelain Tower.

Madam Qi was at the very top of the pagoda.

At this point, Qi Xuansu stopped pretending to be inconspicuous. With a single leap, he flew to her side.

Madam Qi—or rather, the older version of Qi Jiaoyao—stood with her hands behind her back, studying him. “You’ve come.”

Qi Xuansu hesitated. “Should I...not have come?”

Madam Qi rolled her eyes. “I was just making polite conversation.”

“When have you ever been polite with me? That doesn’t sound like you,” Qi Xuansu snorted.

Madam Qi leaned back against the windowsill and looked at him. “Things are different now.”

“What’s different? Don’t tell me there’s something beyond pure mother-and-son affection between us? Is that why you dislike Qing Xiao? That would be so cliché. Even novels wouldn’t bother with it.” Qi Xuansu leaned against the windowsill as well.

“What nonsense!” Madam Qi rebuked. There was no trace of embarrassment or annoyance in her voice. “Back then, I was still young, so maybe I would’ve had some thoughts. But that Qi Xuansu died, and we didn’t spend enough time together anyway. Any feelings would’ve been meaningless. When I met you again later, I was already past 50, and you were just a clueless brat, crying at the sight of some low-level assassin from The Inn. How could you compare with the calm and unshaken Qi Xuansu back then? At that point, you really were just my son.”

“Honestly, your dead-person filter is too strong. I wasn’t calm under pressure back then. I was just fearless because I had a way out,” Qi Xuansu said, completely unbothered by undermining himself.

Madam Qi examined him carefully. “After so many years, I don’t remember many of the details anymore. I only remember your dying words, to do it properly next time. Maybe you’re right. My dead-person filter is too strong. The living can never compare with the dead. Since that Qi Xuansu died, I gradually turned him into a perfect figure in my imagination over the years.”

Qi Xuansu said, “It’s like that for everyone. Back then, he was flawless in my eyes, untouchable, like a sacred idol. But after going through all this and looking back, I realized I might have put him on a pedestal. Many things don’t hold up to close scrutiny...He...Sigh...Never mind.”

“Go on—why stop? I want to hear it,” Madam Qi said, gradually returning to her usual manner. “Are you trying to ask what relationship I have with your master?”

Qi Xuansu said nothing, which was as good as acquiescence.

Madam Qi lowered her gaze slightly, fiddling with the pouch hanging from the smoking pipe at her waist. “If I said there was no connection, that I’d never known him, you probably wouldn’t believe me.”

“So you do know him,” Qi Xuansu said.

“I never said that.” Madam Qi tightened her grip on the pouch. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, but that I cannot. People say that those in Jianghu have no freedom, but it’s the same for those in court. I’ve always walked between the court and the Jianghu. I can’t just do as I please.”