Don't Pick Up Disciples Randomly by the Roadside - Chapter 7

Xuan Shuangxu obediently responded, eating slowly while occasionally stealing glances at Shen Chunyi. Sensing the gaze, Shen Chunyi turned his head to look back, and the boy subtly withdrew his eyes, pretending nothing had happened.

Shen Chunyi wasn’t quite used to this feeling and said, “Are you going to eat or not?”

The young man feigned obedience and replied, “I’m full.”

Shen Chunyi closed his fan and tapped the back of the boy’s hand, saying, “If you’re done, let’s go.”

Xuan Shuangxu hissed and withdrew his hand, rubbing it. The hollow iron fan still stung quite a bit when it hit someone. Hearing his pained gasp, Shen Chunyi thought he had genuinely hurt him and was about to take a closer look when the boy put on an expression of magnanimous tolerance, understandingly saying it was fine.

Throughout the journey, Shen Chunyi opened his mouth only to close it again, truly wanting to ask if he had actually hurt the boy. But seeing the calm expression on his face, he didn’t know what to say and could only silently swallow his words, averting his gaze.

Noticing Shen Chunyi glancing over from time to time, Xuan Shuangxu smiled faintly, “What is Shizun looking at?”

Shen Chunyi turned his head back and said indifferently, “I was wondering if you didn’t sleep well last night and might end up dozing off and falling over once we get there.”

He was indeed still concerned that the boy had spent the night slumped over the table without getting a proper rest.

Xuan Shuangxu chuckled a couple of times, his tone ambiguous, “Shizun has finally deigned to show some concern for me.”

Yesterday had been somewhat rushed, and Shen Chunyi hadn’t noticed that the inn they stayed in wasn’t far from the capital. Heading west from the capital, the bustling and lively scenes sharply diminished. The more prosperous towns around the capital were all to the east, while the west only had scattered villages and farmhouses, though they did possess a certain rustic charm.

The central plains were densely populated, and the hauntings were mostly caused by ghosts of the deceased. The area was predominantly flat, with few mountains, forests, or lowlands. While mountain demons and wild beasts occasionally appeared, they were far less diverse than in the southern regions.

Thus, in the central plains, the fewer the people, the fewer the hauntings. Quiet villages and towns like those west of the capital rarely experienced fierce ghosts. Sometimes, passing cultivators would resolve the issues without even charging a fee. Logically, there was no need to hire a cultivator of Shi Yun’s caliber.

Xuan Shuangxu snorted with a laugh and said leisurely, “Shishu Shi Yun really has a lot of free time.”

Shen Chunyi neither agreed nor disagreed. Continuing westward, Shen Chunyi followed the instructions in the letter and finally arrived at a residence. The two stood still, and after examining it for a moment, Shen Chunyi was slightly surprised.

It wasn’t because the residence was dilapidated. On the contrary, the Zhao residence stood out starkly amidst the rustic, pastoral surroundings west of the capital, appearing far too lavish and out of place.

From the outside, the Zhao residence resembled a courtyard house with neat eaves and gray tiles that looked freshly washed, all brand new. In front of the gate stood two majestic guardian lions with flowing manes, also gleaming brightly. The interior was spacious and imposing, with simple brick walls and bracket sets—no carved beams or painted pillars—yet everything was brand new, as if it had just been renovated. It seemed as though the owners had money to burn, even wishing they could line mouse holes with gold.

In contrast, all the other residences around were simple brick farmhouses with fences and dirt yards. This brand-new mansion stood among them like a crane among chickens.

Xuan Shuangxu commented, “Nouveau riche.”

The main gate of the mansion stood wide open, and stepping inside led directly into the central courtyard. Facing the entrance was a bluestone screen, also new, with sharp edges and corners, showing no signs of wear from the passage of time.

Seeing no one to stop them, Shen Chunyi led the young man straight through the gate.

The walls of the central courtyard were draped with black gauze and white cloth, creating a lifeless atmosphere. It seemed the deceased had likely not yet passed the seventh day after death, and the body was still laid out in the courtyard, awaiting the return of the soul.

The two of them looked around for a while until they happened to see a young girl, about ten years old, carrying a wooden basin as she emerged from the kitchen. Spotting Shen Chunyi and his companion, she asked curiously, “Who are you?”

Xuan Shuangxu didn’t answer directly but instead took the initiative, asking, “How long have you been working in this household?”

Though the girl found the two of them strange, something about the black-clad young man gave her the impression he wasn’t easy to get along with. Instinctively, she replied, “Not long, just three months.”

Xuan Shuangxu smiled, his words carrying a hidden meaning. “Surely your master didn’t just recently come into wealth, did he?”

There seemed to be something more behind his words, something that, if brought up, would sting—likely aimed at her master. The girl was unsure how to respond when Shen Chunyi shook his sleeve, pulled out an invitation, and gently intervened, “We were invited by the master of this household.”

The girl nodded in understanding. She had heard her master mention that his mother had died under mysterious circumstances and that he intended to invite accomplished immortals to perform rituals. She had never seen cultivators before, but both men appeared ethereal and somewhat eccentric, so she assumed they must be the so-called immortals. Not daring to slight them, she set down the wooden basin and led them around the stone screen, adding as they walked, “Are you here for that too? Someone else just arrived earlier, and he said he was here for the same reason.”

Shen Chunyi smiled. “A rather difficult-to-talk-to older sister? We’re together.”

The girl shook her head. “Not an older sister.”

Shen Chunyi was slightly surprised.

Passing around the stone screen, they entered the inner courtyard. A mourning hall had been set up there, with a large white paper character for “condolence” written in black ink at its center. Surrounding it were clusters of vividly colored wreaths, so garish they made Shen Chunyi’s eyes ache. If not for the massive “condolence” character in the middle and the crowd of relatives, large and small, draped in mourning clothes and straining to wail on the ground, the gaudiness of the wreaths would have made it seem like a joyous celebration, as if a family were welcoming a new bride.

Shen Chunyi leaned in for a closer look and felt that the wreaths carried an unusually heavy aura of yin energy.

However, wreaths having yin energy wasn’t particularly uncommon—just think about where wreaths typically appear. Some wreaths are burned after being sent, while others are carried to the gravesite during the funeral and left there, neglected. Sometimes, unscrupulous tombkeepers, acting as shady merchants, would collect these perfectly good wreaths, tidy them up, and resell them, causing the yin energy on them to grow even stronger.

Xuan Shuangxu continued his merciless critique. “Their taste could use some improvement.”

In front of the mourning hall, the coffin lay open. Standing closest to the bier were two people side by side. The one on the left was a man, draped in mourning attire, speaking agitatedly about something. The wailing of the people around him was as forced as an ex-husband unexpectedly running into his former wife after a breakup—even if they couldn’t cry, they forced themselves to, each sob twisting and turning like a winding mountain road. As a result, even though Shen Chunyi stood nearby, he couldn’t make out what the man was saying.

The person on the man’s right was draped in a lilac cloak, the collar tied tightly, obscuring the figure beneath. The veil inside the bamboo hat was also lowered, completely concealing the face. Despite being fully covered, Shen Chunyi could still recognize this as Shi Yun, whom they had met not long ago.

Shen Chunyi found it strange. Although Shi Yun was somewhat tall and concealed herself thoroughly, it shouldn’t be enough to mistake her for a man! At the very least, her voice was still the clear, melodious tone of a young girl.

As the two drew closer, they heard Shi Yun speak with utmost seriousness, “Please remain calm, sir.”

Shen Chunyi immediately understood: the Voice-Chaos Curse!

From Shi Yun’s direction came the deep, low voice of a grown man, not her original crisp, girlish tone. The Voice-Chaos Curse was not uncommon. When disciples of Taiwu Mountain descended to take on assignments, those who wished to do good deeds without leaving their names or avoid forming connections would often conceal their appearance and alter their voices, leaving no trace. Shi Yun had not had this habit before, which was why her unparalleled medical skills were always credited under her real name.

It seemed Shi Yun had gained considerable experience now and knew to protect her privacy, avoiding unnecessary complications when handling matters outside by leaving her name behind.

Shi Yun appeared to have been there for a while, having already spent some time amidst the wailing and sobbing. Though her tone carried a hint of helplessness, it remained patient. While soothing the man and urging him to calm down, she extended a hand to weave a spell in the air. Shen Chunyi recognized the formation—it was used to detect the presence of demons, monsters, or ghosts in an area, a fundamental skill for every cultivation disciple. The formation typically emitted a white light, turning red in the presence of demons or monsters and blue for ghosts.

Since Shi Yun intended to conceal her identity, Shen Chunyi felt it inappropriate to call out her name directly. She stood to the side, waiting for a long while, but the spell showed no reaction, remaining a steady white light. Unable to hold back, Shen Chunyi glanced back at Xuan Shuangxu.

Xuan Shuangxu returned her gaze innocently, blinking his eyes.

Shi Yun waited conservatively for a moment longer before saying, “I observe no signs of supernatural disturbances in your residence. I’m afraid we are unable to assist.”

No supernatural disturbances meant the old woman might have succumbed to a sudden illness, reached the end of her natural lifespan, or even been murdered—in any case, it wasn’t a haunting.

The person dressed in mourning attire beside them seemed to freeze for a moment, clearly unconvinced by Shi Yun’s explanation. He slammed a hand on the coffin lid, causing the elder inside to tremble.

He roared, “How is that possible? My mother was only forty this year, always in good health with no chronic illnesses. No one else has entered the residence. If it’s not a haunting, what else could it be?”

Shi Yun shrugged and continued, “Since it’s not demons, monsters, or ghosts, a Taoist priest is of no use. You may consider hiring a coroner instead.”

“I paid to bring you here. To dismiss the matter so casually with just a flicker of light is utterly disrespectful. Where is the dignity of your great sect?”

Hearing this, Shen Chunyi gritted her teeth, her fingers tightening around her fan.

In the past, when Shi Yun was not yet so renowned, she and Shen Chunyi would often descend the mountain to take on assignments, and passersby would frequently beg Shi Yun for medical treatment.

When Shi Yun wasn’t on official assignments, she offered free consultations and never charged for her services. However, while her diagnoses were free, the prescriptions she wrote still required payment at the pharmacy. After all, Shi Yun wasn’t running a charity—she couldn’t go around stuffing handfuls of herbs into people’s arms out of sheer benevolence every day.

Thus, Shi Yun always let them fetch the medicine themselves. Fearing that the pharmacies might cut corners, people would then ask her which pharmacy to go to. After a moment’s thought, Shi Yun recalled a decent shop she had passed while handling a request and casually mentioned its name.

This gave rise to a question: Was Shi Yun using her reputation for free clinics to secretly collude with pharmacies and take kickbacks?

People clicked their tongues and remarked, “Indeed, there’s no such thing as a free lunch!”

Later, when this rumor reached Shi Yun’s ears, she flew into a rage—well, she raged for a moment. From then on, she began carrying more herbs with her each time she descended the mountain. If there were leftovers after fulfilling a request, she would dispense them along with the prescriptions.

But of course, the matter didn’t end there. Once people learned that she offered free consultations and free medicine, even the stray cats and dogs on the street would come to have their pulses checked if they breathed a little too slowly. Every time Shi Yun prepared to ascend the mountain, she would be surrounded by a dense crowd.

Shi Yun flew into a rage again—this time, even more fiercely. From then on, she stopped offering free clinics. Anyone who wanted to see her had to pay a few copper coins first, which she called a registration fee.

This, in turn, led to another problem. While copper coins didn’t sound particularly valuable, there were times when they were worth a great deal. As a result, situations like this often occurred: after Shi Yun went through the four diagnostic methods—observation, listening, questioning, and pulse-taking—and concluded that the patient was perfectly healthy, the person would become furious and exclaim, “I paid money, so why didn’t you examine me properly?” or “If there’s nothing wrong with me, why did you charge me at all?” Such remarks nearly made Shi Yun spit blood in anger.

Shen Chunyi hadn’t heard such comments in a while. Now, suddenly hearing them again in the Zhao residence, she found them oddly familiar.

Shi Yun had encountered such scenes countless times. She had weathered countless storms and remained unshaken, her expression as steady as a rock, not even a frown crossing her brow. Shen Chunyi couldn’t help but admire her composure.

Shi Yun said calmly, “If you don’t believe me, you may request a replacement. If the fault lies with us, we will compensate you accordingly. If the fault lies with you, the commission will not be refunded.”

Taiwu Mountain had a rule: if no traces of supernatural disturbances were found while handling a request, only eighty percent of the commission would be refunded. If the client was dissatisfied and appealed, requesting a thorough investigation, and the fault was determined to lie with Taiwu Mountain, the full commission would be refunded along with double compensation. If the fault lay with the client, the commission would not be refunded.

Who would willingly suffer a loss without receiving anything? The thought of losing twenty percent of the commission for nothing left many feeling deeply resentful.

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