Chapter 115: Remnant Lineage of the Demon Race

It is quite something that a single scrubbing could leave He Chang'an bedridden for seven or eight days, only to be able to walk by leaning against walls afterward.

Reflecting on his recent experiences, He Chang'an felt a sense of gratitude toward Hu Buyan and the burly old man, though his mind was also filled with various philosophical musings. He knew full well that this inexplicable stroke of fortune—which had thoroughly tempered his soul, meridians, bones, and blood energy—was likely due to Zhang Xiaoyan’s influence. Yet, he did not utter a word of thanks to that effeminate man; not because he was unwilling, but because he could not. Some debts of gratitude are best kept in the heart rather than spoken aloud; to do otherwise would be improper.

A measure of rice breeds gratitude, but a bushel breeds enmity—such is the way of the world among men. He Chang'an held fast to one principle: if one is truly in difficulty, one may ask for help; if others are unwilling to extend a hand, that is their prerogative, and one should harbor no resentment. However, if they do choose to help, even in the smallest act of kindness, one must remember their goodness and keep a sense of gratitude in one's heart. He once debated this simple philosophy of life with an old scholar. The old scholar believed that "great kindness is not spoken of with thanks" was correct, just as "the gentleman cherishes virtue while the petty man cherishes land" was correct; justice resides in the hearts of men. He Chang'an felt that, on this point, the old scholar did not understand as thoroughly as he did. He clearly remembered that old scholar, dressed in a worn cotton robe, lifting half a bowl of leftover wine, draining it in one gulp, and smiling without a word.

...

Outside the window, the sun was bright and the courtyard serene. He Chang'an, leaning against the wall, slowly walked out of the guest room. A gentle breeze brushed his face—another fine, clear day. Standing in the courtyard, He Chang'an took a stance and threw a punch. The force of the punch was restrained, the intent light and soft, flowing in a continuous, unbroken stream. He had indeed stepped into a brand-new realm. After the ordeal of medicinal baths and scrubbing, his cultivation level had been forcibly suppressed, falling back to the tenth-rank martial artist stage. However, an extra mystical aperture had unexpectedly opened at his Dantian center, roughly the size of a fist. Within this aperture, "Little Black," leading a soul-summoning banner, had occupied the space like a bully, occasionally poking at the edges as if wanting to expand it further. Every time it poked, He Chang'an’s eyes would twitch. The creature used some unknown method that was even more painful than marrow-cleansing, leaving He Chang'an speechless.

After finishing the set of ancient boxing, He Chang'an was covered in sweat, feeling refreshed and warm throughout his body. The injuries from the marrow-cleansing had mostly healed. He marveled to himself, thinking that this Linglong Town was truly a place where hidden talents abounded, deep and unfathomable. It seemed that in his future travels, he could no longer look only at the sky; those seemingly ordinary people around him could very well be "Sleeping Dragon" masters.

He Chang'an washed up and headed toward the back courtyard where Zhang Xiaoyan lived. On the way, he encountered the burly old man carrying two large buckets of water, grumbling and cursing. He Chang'an nodded slightly in greeting. The old man ignored him, muttering, "Ungrateful wolves that can never be tamed," leaving He Chang'an to offer a wry smile.

Entering the back courtyard, He Chang'an gave a light cough. Hearing Zhang Xiaoyan say, "Please enter," he stepped inside. After all, this was someone’s "boudoir"...

Hu Buyan was also in the room, along with the innkeeper, the elderly woman who walked with a limp. The three were sitting around a pine table, drinking tea. Zhang Xiaoyan rose with a smile to greet him, gesturing for He Chang'an to sit, and poured him a small bowl of clear tea. The fragrance was refreshing and soothing.

"He Chang'an, do me the honor of drinking a bowl of my clear tea today," Zhang Xiaoyan said with a giggle, teasing, "Our young Master He here pretends to be a sword cultivator all day, clutching a wine jar and never letting go. In my opinion, he hasn't mastered the sword, but he is certainly a drunkard."

The three laughed. He Chang'an chuckled, lifted the tea bowl, took a small sip, and praised, "Excellent wine!" Hu Buyan roared with laughter, while Zhang Xiaoyan puffed out her cheeks in annoyance and refused to look at him again. The old woman, however, stared at He Chang'an with piercing eyes for a while, then suddenly grinned, revealing three wobbly teeth: "He Chang'an, this lad is not bad."

The three then returned to their conversation, ignoring He Chang'an. From their talk, He Chang'an was shocked to learn that all the residents of this Linglong Town were descendants of the demon clans. Moreover, their bloodlines were exceptionally pure and noble; they spoke of the southern demon clans with disdain, which made He Chang'an’s heart race. Hu Buyan belonged to the Heavenly Fox clan, while the old woman and the burly man were of the Ancient Ape lineage. There were others—Heavenly Wolves, Spirit Snakes, Leopard-Qilin beasts—all ancient demon bloodlines that could take human form by the age of three or five. Without the status of an earthly immortal, one would never be able to discern their true origins. Zhang Xiaoyan clearly knew this and was on intimate terms with these demon descendants, often speaking to them quite bluntly. The old woman kept downing bowl after bowl of tea as if she hadn't seen water in years, entirely disregarding the etiquette of tea drinking.

...

Hu Buyan took a sip of tea and sighed with a look of utter existential despair, drawing Zhang Xiaoyan’s scorn: "You rotten drunkard, go off and live with He Chang'an."

Hu Buyan shook his head with a bitter smile: "His cultivation is too low; it’s no fun playing with him. Xiaoyan, why don't I take you up the mountain now? I heard your father hid a few jars of Monkey Wine, brewed personally by Ape Tieyi’s grandfather..."

Before he could finish, the old man was lifted up by the old woman and tossed out of the window as if he were nothing but snot. Hu Buyan groaned, but didn't dare to say anything more. Instead, he hung over the door frame, beckoned to He Chang'an, and winked: "Let's go, He Chang'an. Grandpa Hu will take you to the brothel to listen to music. Don't worry, they’re pure-blooded Heavenly Fox lasses." As he spoke, his lean, elegant face twisted into a lewd expression.

"How do you know they're pure-blooded Heavenly Fox lasses?" He Chang'an asked casually.

"Because... ahem, they are the spawn of my elder brother, Hu Buyu. Satisfied?" Hu Buyan was furious, but kept in check by the old woman, daring not to babble further.

Despite being demon descendants, they appeared more approachable than humans, which struck He Chang'an with wonder. In the Qingshi Town battle, he had nearly lost his life; arriving in Linglong Town felt like stepping into a Peach Blossom Spring, worlds apart.

"Go on, go on, just don't lose your soul in the lap of a Heavenly Fox lass." Zhang Xiaoyan seemed to be in a foul mood; she shooed He Chang'an out with a cold face.

"Master Zhang..." He Chang'an began, but his mouth was immediately sealed by a talisman.

"Get out! Do you expect me to serve you, Master He?" Zhang Xiaoyan glared, her hands on her hips, eyes spitting fire. "Hu Buyan, I’m telling you, if you don't serve He Chang'an well, don't expect me to take you up the mountain. My father’s three and a half jars of Monkey Wine will stay in storage for another hundred years to serve as funeral wine for my mother!"

Seeing that Zhang Xiaoyan was truly angry, Hu Buyan gave a dry laugh and dragged He Chang'an away in a flash.

Zhang Xiaoyan stared blankly out the window. In the back courtyard, a grey bird squatted on a magnolia tree, chirping loudly, nearly falling off the branch. "Even a stinking bird is laughing at me!" Furious, Zhang Xiaoyan kicked the tea table, threw a handful of talismans, and blasted the small grey bird into a wisp of smoke. Only then did her frustration subside, though her chest still heaved. "I'm so mad! Zhang Juxiang, you just wait!"

The small bird had been pulverized by seventeen or eighteen talismans. Not only did the old woman look on with pity, but in a Taoist temple on Mount Longhu, a roar erupted: "You wretched creature, how dare you blow up my bird!"

...

Linglong Town was small, with about a hundred households. Though every family was a descendant of a demon clan, their lives were simple and rustic, presenting a "hundred states of demon life" that surpassed many human towns in its charm. This fascinated He Chang'an. Following Hu Buyan through the narrow alleys felt like returning to his childhood, playing hide-and-seek with village children.

The town’s only "brothel" was actually a small tavern. They had used giant logs to build a small platform in the courtyard, decorated with flowers, trees, and glowing pearls, making it feel quite natural. In front of the platform was a gallery made of green bamboo, with a small stream gurgling by, its origin and destination unknown. The residents often drank and listened to music here. If they were pleased, they could offer gifts just like in human brothels, but generally, the singers sold only songs, not their bodies.

Hu Buyan warned He Chang'an of the taboos: do not gobble food like a starving ghost, do not shout or brawl while listening to music. The two most important rules: do not lay a hand on a Heavenly Fox lass, and do not fight with other guests—because the Heavenly Fox lass was Hu Buyan’s daughter. As for the other guests... He Chang'an figured he couldn't beat them, so he shouldn't embarrass himself.

When they arrived, a voluptuous woman was playing the zither. Her head was bowed, her neck as white as congealed fat, and her dark hair cascaded like a waterfall to her feet. What moved He Chang'an most were her bare, white feet—they were so beautiful and natural, far more moving than the music.

"Lad, don't stare at her feet, that’s also a taboo," Hu Buyan whispered, pulling He Chang'an to a corner seat.

"Why is that a taboo? Her feet are truly beautiful," He Chang'an thought. The taboos in this town were quite bizarre.

"Because she’s my daughter. You little pervert, I don't trust you." Hu Buyan looked around and whispered, "Do you have any rare treasures... forget it, you look like a pauper. Any magical artifacts, literary treasures, ghost cores, demon cores, or spirit stone mines? Or top-tier cultivation techniques, secret manuals? Anything will do."

He Chang'an moved away, watching Hu Buyan with suspicion: "Drinking and listening to music here is too expensive. Perhaps we should go back."

Hu Buyan laughed dryly and stopped bothering him, instead pulling over a waiter and whispering a few words, looking quite smug. He Chang'an felt he had been scammed.

...

The old man, could he be a wine-tout? Fortunately, the waiter brought a few items that weren't expensive but were quite exquisite: a cluster of purple grapes, two plates of sugar-coated pumpkin seeds, and some seasonal fruit. There was also a small pot of wine, even lighter than plum blossom wine, with almost no taste of alcohol at all. Humans ate meat, while demons ate vegetables—this gave He Chang'an some indigestion.

Seeming to read his mind, Hu Buyan talked on while sipping the flower wine. With his lean face and white beard, he really looked like the legendary old fox who tells stories. "This Linglong Town cannot be entered by outsiders. Without a special token, even an earthly immortal would need great fortune to get in. This little world is what you humans call a 'Blessed Land of Caves.' Of course, that’s a vague term, because the legendary ten great caves, thirty-six small caves, and seventy-two blessed lands have long been shattered. After they were destroyed, the spiritual energy dissipated into the heavens and earth, which is why we have the 'Three Mountains and Five Peaks' or 'Overseas Immortal Islands.' They are merely the fragments of those original blessed lands. And this Linglong Town is one such fragment..."

He Chang'an had only read about these places in books and thought they were mere fabrications of scholars. He hadn't expected them to be real. So, did earthly immortals and ascension to heaven truly exist? He Chang'an felt his blood boil and couldn't help but ask more. Hu Buyan answered the trivial questions but smiled without a word on the critical ones. He Chang'an understood this likely involved the "taboos" and stopped asking.

They had come to listen to music, but they ended up whispering about everything under the sun. For He Chang'an, it was an eye-opener that made him even more determined to cultivate. 'An earthly immortal, that must be a great master who rides the wind on a sword and lives forever, right?'

...

The song ended. Hu Buyan had disappeared. He Chang'an ate grapes and fruit, sipping wine, lost in thought about his own cultivation. The Qi-Eating Method, Haoran Righteous Qi, the ancient boxing... all along, only the little black sword in his Dantian seemed related to immortality. Everything else was a bit of a stretch. But to cultivate, one must first survive. It seemed this crude martial arts path could at least ensure he stayed alive. As for the ancient boxing, he would keep practicing. He set himself a small goal: practice it a million times first...

Suddenly, a wave of floral scent washed over him. Turning his head, he saw the Heavenly Fox lass resting her chin on her hand, sitting on the high platform, watching him with a faint smile. He took a closer look: she wasn't young, perhaps around thirty, plump and vibrant, far more full-bodied than the purple grapes... But one thing was certain: she was a mature woman, not the "maiden" Hu Buyan had claimed. A woman or a maiden—he couldn't even tell the difference, and he a former constable!

However, her skin was incredibly fair, her complexion rosy, like a piece of translucent jade. What was most striking were her heavy, trembling breasts. He dared not compare them to the little nun or A-Jiu...

"Young man, would you like to hear another song?" the woman asked with a smile, her tone unexpectedly elegant. "One piece of silver per song, or simply pluck a magnolia flower for me."

He Chang'an nodded slightly, took out a piece of silver, and placed it on the table. A waiter quickly came to take it away on a sandalwood tray. In the past, "Quick-hand He Chang'an" would have tipped a coin or two without a second thought, even when he was destitute. But now, he was much more steady. After reading books and experiencing life, especially after meeting high-level figures like the old scholar and A-Fei, his mindset had changed. He no longer did foolish things—like cutting off his own parts to honor the gods, which only caused himself pain and might not even please the gods. Moreover, in this "demonic yet rustic" Linglong Town, being cautious was the best way to avoid trouble.

"Thank you, young man. I will perform for you the 'Nishang Dance of the Flying Immortal Beyond the Heavens'," the Heavenly Fox woman bowed, lightly plucking the strings. The sound, like clear springs dripping on stones and moonlight shining on pines, enveloped the tavern in a pale blue glow. In a daze, He Chang'an saw, far beyond the mountains and the sea, on a small island shrouded in immortal mist... a sword flying toward him.