Chapter Fifty-Nine: Conspiracy

Since senior brother has spoken, we should all give him some respect and let Yu’er have a try.

The pot-bellied middle-aged man in gold-striped robes swirled the cup in his hand and agreed to Zi Fancheng’s request. The others present nodded their consent as well. Zi Fancheng, Zi Fansheng, and Zi Fanshan were the main figures of the gathering, heads of the three great families, and the stewards of the Windwalker Continent. Though their cultivation was not particularly high, it was their authority and power, supported by capable family members, that had brought about this situation.

The banquet ended early. Zi Chenyu returned to his chamber and lay on his bed. Shortly after, a servant approached.

“Master, what should be done about the maid? And you promised to work with Tu Tianxiong from Forge Sky Valley—are you really going to cooperate? His reputation is poor in the cultivation world and he’ll do anything to get his way.”

“My affairs do not concern you,” Zi Chenyu replied. “But as for the maid, bring her in. The night is cold and my room is warm. Do not wake me tomorrow.”

The servant left, shaking his head as he walked toward the western wing. Not long after, a bundle wrapped in red cloth was delivered to Zi Chenyu’s room.

A golden sound-transmission talisman soared to the summit of Broken Peak. Tu Tianxiong, deep in cultivation, opened his eyes and activated the talisman. As he listened, excitement was plain on his face.

“It’s done, isn’t it?” Qian Chuanchuan, seeing Tu Tianxiong receive the message, relaxed his furrowed brow and smiled, knowing good news had arrived.

“Of course it’s good news. Do you need to say it?” Zhao Jian tugged at Qian Chuanchuan, hinting he was standing too close, almost drooling onto Tu Tianxiong’s chest.

“It’s good news. That fool from the Zi family agreed to help. Everything is proceeding as planned. Now we just have to wait and see how things unfold. Even if Dao Sansheng has Guo Tianmeng backing him, that guy won’t be able to protect him.”

The two burst out laughing, their laughter echoing through the valley.

Everything proceeded according to Dao Sansheng’s arrangement, and the renovations in the marketplace were carried out just as he had instructed: wooden floors, wooden ceilings, wooden partitions, and luminous stones installed as lighting. People flocked outside, all here for the trading conference, drawn by its fame. Dao Sansheng was quite satisfied; Autumn Pond City was showing signs of vitality once again.

If things continued this way, when the conference ended, his building would become renowned everywhere, and he would be the greatest beneficiary of this event.

Zhao Jinqian had been busy lately, yet his spirits remained high, as if boosted by some elixir.

“Senior Dao, I’ve handled everything you arranged. Tomorrow, we can proceed as planned. Also, I’ve found out about the person you wanted me to investigate.”

“Speak quickly.” Dao Sansheng, pleased with the progress, was visibly excited when it came to the other matter.

“She’s the most outstanding disciple of Purple Immortal Palace this generation, the object of pursuit for many senior and junior brothers. Her fame is such that any disciple knows her story—there’s no need to inquire.”

“How is she? Where is she now?”

Dao Sansheng felt foolish for asking; with so many admirers, how could she not be well?

“I hear the opening performance of this trading conference will be a song and dance by her, personally chosen by the palace master.”

“You’ll see her then, and can speak with her privately if needed.”

At last, Dao Sansheng had the news he desired. Overjoyed, he lay awake all night.

At dawn, Chao Xiong got up and hurried to Dao Sansheng’s courtyard. He pushed open the door, but found the room empty. He called out in the courtyard.

“Senior Dao, senior Dao…”

“Stop shouting. He’s gone to the riverside—the one separating Autumn Pond City from Purple Immortal City. He left early, taking nothing, and isn’t responding to anyone,” Li Xiaohong explained.

Chao Xiong rushed toward the riverbank, distressed. Everything here was in chaos, with matters waiting for Dao Sansheng to resolve, yet the man had suddenly fled, leaving him with a mess he couldn’t handle.

Early spring grass sprouted tender shoots along the river, whose clear waters teemed with lively fish. The embankment’s stone railings framed the beauty of spring. Ducks quacked as they swam in line, and a stone bridge at the center bustled with people, all carrying goods from west to east.

Rows of willow trees lined both shores, their fresh green leaves swaying in the spring breeze. Beneath one stood a youth, quietly leaning on the railing, ignoring the river’s scenery and the bridge’s travelers, his gaze fixed on a distant mountain.

He stared for hours, drawing curious glances from passersby, though most moved on after a brief look. That mountain was none other than the main peak of Purple Immortal Palace—Purple Immortal Peak. Legend had it that Master Ziwei attained immortality and ascended from that very place, as had many cultivators, making it famous.

Everyone assumed he was contemplating the peak, striving for enlightenment. Such scenes were not uncommon, though few ever succeeded.

Chao Xiong arrived, panting, and saw Dao Sansheng dazing beneath the tree, staring at Purple Immortal Peak, exactly as the local carpenters had often described.

What was he looking at so intently?

“Senior Dao…”

“Senior Dao…”

“Senior Dao…”

Chao Xiong’s calls grew louder, drawing the attention of those on the bridge. Dao Sansheng ignored him, continuing to gaze at the mountain. Unable to stand it, Chao Xiong went up and shook him twice.

“Why did you come here? Stop shaking me; I’m not a drink that needs shaking before you sip.”

“You didn’t hear me calling you.” Chao Xiong complained.

“Alright, let’s go back.” Dao Sansheng turned and left with Chao Xiong.

Soon, two young women arrived by the river, surrounded by a crowd of young men. The woman seemed utterly indifferent, her face icy, her cold gaze dismissing their attempts at courtship.

She moved with graceful hips, one slender hand resting on the stone bridge rail, her skin pale as frost and her fingers long and delicate. Her black hair nearly reached her waist, and a white gauze veil covered her face, fluttering in the spring breeze. Her lips, pale pink, appeared somewhat dry.

Silent, she gazed at the river flowing north to south. Beneath the veil, her eyes glistened, yet her expression remained colder than ever.

“What a wonderful spring scene. It's thanks to Sister Qian for finding this spot. Allow me to compose a poem to immortalize the beauty.”

“Little river so vast, great river so small.
Little river not so small, great river not so great.”

“Senior Zi truly has a universe in his belly—such splendid verse!” praised several disciples nearby.

The Zi surname belonged to the foremost force in Purple Immortal Palace, split into three great families, yet no one dared provoke a Zi.