Qingshan

Chapter 31 : Chapter 31

Chapter 31: Mountain Lord, Dragon Swallower

In the small courtyard, the crow flapped its wings, eyeing Dark Cloud.

Dark Cloud, full and content, lunged at it but was dodged each time, the crow’s caws full of mischief.

For some reason, I felt the crow and cat, youth and elder, blended harmoniously in this serene courtyard.

Tonight was one of the few calm nights since I arrived in this world.

No schemes, no fights.

The world’s mysterious veil finally began to lift before me.

“Master,” I asked my most pressing question: “Do all Enforcers need to kill like we do…”

Old Man Yao frowned: “Kill what, patients?”

“Hm?” I was more confused. “Master, how do you cultivate?”

He said lightly: “Cure a patient, and their illness energy becomes mine.”

I was stunned. Same path, different methods?

But then, the crow on the apricot tree, wings pointing like fingers, cawed and laughed at me, nearly falling off.

I: “…Master, lying’s no fun!”

He sneered: “Still green, with some brains but not enough. Remember, this martial world and society are harsher than you think. Trust only yourself and that cat.”

“Not even you?”

“Nope,” he brushed pastry crumbs into his mouth, wasting nothing. “Our path is the most secret. If known, the Secret Spy Division, Chief Punishment Division, Prince Jing, the Emperor, and all officials would want you dead. Without brains, you can’t walk this path.”

“Master, are other Enforcers on our path?” I asked curiously.

He recalled: “Killed a few, but I don’t know if I got them all.”

I: “…”

Choking on my pancake, I drank water and asked: “Master, what’s our path called?”

He stroked his beard: “I’ve answered enough…”

Before he finished, Dark Cloud nuzzled into his arms, rubbing wildly.

He thought, then said: “Some call it ‘Mountain Lord.’”

I mused: “Mountain Lord?”

“Others call it ‘Dragon Swallower.’”

I fell solemn. Mountain Lord was vague, but Dragon Swallower hit the mark!

Curious, I asked: “Master, if you killed me, would it boost your cultivation?”

“No,” he glanced. “But if you killed me, your cultivation would speed up. Want to try?”

I: “…No need to be so generous, Master.”

He explained: “If you’re the only one on the Mountain Lord path, you cultivate at full speed. Two people, half speed. Tempted yet?”

I frowned, honest: “Many would be.”

“So, Enforcers rarely take disciples unless desperate,” he said.

“What’s desperate?”

“Near death from injury, old age, or no hope of the ultimate path,” he sighed. “I’ve seen masters teach disciples who then try to kill them, fathers pass to sons who plot against them.”

I caught the desolation in his tone: “Master, besides She Dakang and Liu Quxing, do I have other senior brothers?”

He sneered: “Had some. Dead. I killed them.”

I hesitated: “Do you have children?”

He paused long: “Answered that. Live long enough, and you’ll learn: don’t form bonds lightly. They’re doomed to farewells and disappointments.”

I understood why he was so cold. His aloofness hid stories too deep for words.

He likely taught his son sincerely, not waiting until death’s door, but his son turned treacherous.

No wonder Enforcers were rare—they guarded their paths fiercely, clashing with rivals. Not all sons plotted against fathers, but some did.

I asked: “Why take three disciples at once?”

He glanced, then at the crow teasing Dark Cloud: “No master-disciple bond here. I just don’t want this path to die with me. Pay tuition, I teach skills—that’s it.”

I felt his reason wasn’t complete but didn’t press, saying sincerely: “You may not believe me, but I’d never harm you…”

“Don’t say that yet,” he scoffed. “I’ve told you enough so you don’t die clueless. What I can’t tell you, maybe I will when I’m in a better mood.”

I: “…When are you in a better mood?”

“When you replace my ginseng.”

I hurried: “I’ll go to the herb merchant tomorrow…”

Old Man Yao, hunched, paused at the main room’s door, crow landing on his shoulder: “Don’t overthink. Since you’re with the Secret Spy Division, you’ve stepped into the martial world. Life or death is fate—don’t regret it.”

I asked: “Master, what’s the martial world?”

He said flatly: “A place repeating daily, no novelty.”

“Why?”

“Because human nature’s the same—repeating, no novelty.”

I asked suddenly: “Master, what’s the Inner Minister, head of the Secret Spy Division, like?”

“The most venomous man,” he pushed the door. “They call him the Poison Minister privately. You’ll miss these days before knowing him.”

I watched him and the crow, like seeing Dark Cloud and me on Luocheng’s streets that night.

From inside, he hummed a strange tune: “Law-abiding, daily woes; bullies, nightly songs. Harm others, gain riches; upright, starve. Build bridges, go blind; kill, have sons. I asked Buddha in the West—he said he’s got no fix…”

I returned to the room, lying on the shared bed, his song echoing. Dark Cloud curled on my chest.

“Dark Cloud, don’t lie there—I can’t sleep.”

It looked up: “Without me, would Master talk so much? After such merit, sleeping on you’s fair, right?”

I paused: “Fair!”

…

…

Before dawn, rooster silent, Dark Cloud was gone.

I filled the water tank and swept the courtyard clean.

Seeing the crow on the apricot tree watching me, I smiled and greeted it. It glanced, then slept on the branch.

All done, I slipped the Buddhist treasure coins on my wrist, pocketed the silver ingots, and went out.

The herb merchant was in East Market, a hub for merchants, scholars, and officials, all passing through Luocheng.

Yet they were transients, leaving after the bustle.

From Taiping Clinic, it took an hour to hear East Market’s clamor. Brothels had closed, fishermen returned from rivers with baskets, and porters hauled ropes to the canal.

I scanned signs, stopping at “Hundred Deer Pavilion,” Luocheng’s largest herb merchant, supplying sixty percent of the city’s herbs.

Taiping Clinic bought here; all three apprentices had visited.

Stepping in, a plump shopkeeper greeted with a smile: “Little Doctor Chen, what brings you? My clerk delivered to Taiping Clinic yesterday.”

I smiled: “Master sent me for some aged ginseng for the Prince’s Mansion. Got any in stock?”

The shopkeeper frowned: “Aged ginseng’s pricey. We buy per orders—your master gets one monthly. No extras for Taiping Clinic.”

I turned to leave: “I’ll check elsewhere.”

He grabbed me, beaming: “Don’t rush, Little Doctor Chen. Coincidentally, Fangping Pharmacy’s order hasn’t shipped. We’re old friends with Physician Yao—if the mansion needs it, we can spare some.”

I nodded: “Show me.”

“This way. Precious herbs are in the back.”

He led me to a storeroom, opening the wooden door: “Please.”

I entered, eyeing dozens of herb boxes, when the door shut behind me.

Odd—just looking at ginseng, why close the door?

Wrong!

I rolled forward, standing to see the shopkeeper stab with a dagger, face vicious.

But I moved faster, kicking his plump belly.

He hadn’t expected me to outpace him, dodging and countering. Stumbling back, he growled: “Save me!”

I lunged to finish him, but wind came from behind. Someone emerged from the herb boxes, dagger at my neck.

Their speed matched Lin Chaoqing, Yunyang, or Jiaotu—I couldn’t react.

Feeling the blade’s chill, my neck hairs stood. I asked calmly: “What’s this about?”

The figure behind me said: “You betrayed your surname, your identity, and sold out Zhou Chengyi. Don’t you deserve to die?”

I was speechless… What I feared had come!