“Do you want to go into that tomb?”
Jiang Li asked casually after returning to the Heaven-Class Room. He hadn’t expected that the Red Dust Fairy would be so intrigued by the tomb of the Spirit Transformation Cultivator. The Red Dust Fairy was savoring the delicacies Jiang Li had brought back.
Her cherry lips slightly parted as she chewed slowly and gracefully. Jiang Li worried the food might cool down, so he secretly used heat to keep it warm.
“Immortal beasts are all very cute. I want to see the Atlas of Immortal Beasts.”
The Red Dust Fairy had a fondness for small animals. No matter how fierce or how auspicious the immortal beasts were, they were all “cute” in her view.
“Especially Dijiang—it’s the cutest.”
The Red Dust Fairy had seen several books about immortal beasts in the Red Dust Pure Land. Some described them, while others depicted them in paintings. From then on, she developed a strong interest in such creatures.
Jiang Li didn’t see it that way. He didn’t think there was anything cute about Dijiang—a creature red like burning fire, with six legs, four wings, and no eyes, ears, mouth, or nose. In Jiang Li’s eyes, Dijiang looked like a red egg sprouting legs and wings—a bizarre existence indeed.
“Wouldn’t it be enough to wait for Li Nian’er to bring it back?” he asked.
“You don’t understand,” the Red Dust Fairy said, allowing her peerless beauty to be fully revealed before Jiang Li.
She didn’t bother wrapping herself up like a rice dumpling here. Her fair, slender finger swayed slightly as she explained, “In the hands of that Spirit Transformation Cultivator, it’s a first-hand book. Once Li Nian’er gets it, it’s second-hand.
When it comes to me, it becomes third-hand.”
“I might not be able to see the first-hand copy, but I should at least see the second-hand one.”
Jiang Li found himself unable to grasp the thought patterns of what was—by age—essentially a three-year-old girl. But guided by the principle that one should neither argue with children nor reason with women, he decided to go along with her logic.
“Then we’ll go tomorrow.”
The Red Dust Fairy nodded elegantly, trying to appear like a proper elder. She was quite satisfied with Jiang Li’s attitude—whatever she said, he agreed. Not like those disappointing juniors of hers—refusing to let her go out, and even denying her a single immortal peach to eat.
What, did they think eating a peach would make her pregnant? …
“Master, let us find another inn.”
The escaped servant had returned, now walking sheepishly to his young lord. The so-called young lord was an unnaturally pale-skinned youth. Those around him were full of respect, yet they also feared him deeply, keeping an obvious distance at all times.
After the servant made his suggestion, he was uneasy. He knew his young lord’s temper—disliking trouble and unwilling to change lodging once settled.
“Does that inn not have Heaven-Class Rooms?”
“They do, but they’re all taken.”
“Then have the guests vacate them for us.”
The young lord said it matter-of-factly. As a Golden Core Cultivator and a poison cultivator at that—one known and feared throughout the martial world—he felt he could do as he pleased in this small city where there wasn’t even a single Nascent Soul Cultivator.
Poison cultivators used their own bodies as furnaces, rearing poisonous insects and enduring all manner of toxins to refine their Poison Bodies. This young lord was infamous across the martial world—known as the Poison Young Master.
In his eyes, as long as he and the innkeeper or the Heaven-Class guests had a “friendly” talk, spoke about the marvels of poison, and showed them a few charming centipedes and scorpions, they would happily surrender their rooms.
“There’s a commander from the Human Emperor Palace and a walker from the Dharma Body Sect staying there,” the servant reminded cautiously.
The Poison Young Master walked straight past the inn and continued on, glancing back at the dazed servants behind him.
“What are you standing around for? If there’s no space in that inn, then go to the next one!” he barked.
At last, the Poison Young Master and his group found another inn and took all the Heaven-Class Rooms at once. One servant, after slipping out of the inn, lowered his voice worriedly.
“Young Master, I heard the Human Emperor Palace has been searching within the Great Wei for certain tombs. Could it be... they’re looking for the same one we are?”
At these words, not only did the other servants burst into laughter—even the normally stern Poison Young Master couldn’t help but chuckle.
“A Liu, you’re overthinking. The Human Emperor Palace is an enormous power. How could they possibly be interested in the same place as us?”
Perhaps pleased by his servant’s foolishness, which amused him, the Poison Young Master decided to elaborate.
“The commanders of the Human Emperor Palace are at the Union Stage. Some might even be at the Tribulation Transcendence Stage. Above them stands the unfathomable Grand Emperor Jiang, who is at the Mahayana Stage. Do you really think they’d bother with a Spirit Transformation Stage tomb?”
“Their search must surely be for a tomb of a Tribulation Transcendence expert—or perhaps even an Immortal’s Tomb,” the Poison Young Master declared confidently.
“I heard the Great Wei’s predecessor was the Great Han Dynasty, and the founding ancestor of the Great Han once slew the immortal beast White Serpent with a sword. Perhaps the Human Emperor Palace seeks that immortal beast’s tomb.”
The servants nodded one after another, praising their master’s knowledge, which greatly pleased him. Not that they didn’t already know such bits of history themselves.
“The tomb we’re after belongs only to a Spirit Transformation cultivator. Even if that person had something extraordinary, it wouldn’t be enough to attract the Human Emperor Palace’s attention.”
“But, Young Master,” one servant named A Qi said uneasily, “that Spirit Transformation cultivator was an unparalleled genius in his time. Perhaps that’s why the Human Emperor Palace took notice?”
“‘Unparalleled genius’—only among those of the same rank. If my clan’s patriarch hadn’t poisoned him, he might at best have reached the Union Stage.”
The Poison Young Master shook his head. The one they sought was once a prodigy who dazzled the world a thousand years ago. His mastery of the Dao of Beast Taming was remarkable—capable of summoning all manner of exotic beasts to fight for him.
His cultivation aptitude was also extraordinary, and even some great powers once remarked that this man was terrifyingly gifted—someone with the potential of a Union Stage expert. But the path of cultivation is never smooth. That cultivator fell during his Spirit Transformation Stage, slain by poison from the Poison Young Master’s ancestor.
The Poison Young Master was a man of ambition. He not only wanted to acquire the fallen cultivator’s unique cultivation method but also his Beast Taming Art—hoping to combine it with his knowledge of venomous insects. Perhaps then his control over his poisons would become even more refined.
“Enough. Everyone rest up. Tomorrow, we’ll visit the tomb.” …
“Hm? Human Emperor, you’re coming too?”
The next day, Li Nian’er was about to set out when she saw Jiang Li arriving with a beautiful lady wrapped like a dumpling, announcing that the two of them would also be going to the tomb. Why did she feel that even though the woman’s face was hidden, she must be stunning? Li Nian’er couldn’t figure it out.
“Yes, the weather’s hot. I thought we’d look for a cooler place,” Jiang Li said shamelessly, as if oblivious to the fact that cultivators at the Nascent Soul Stage no longer felt heat or cold.
Of course, Li Nian’er herself was a Nascent Soul cultivator—she understood perfectly what “heat and cold no longer affect the body” meant. But since it was Jiang Li, the Human Emperor himself, she assumed there must be a deeper meaning behind his words and made sure to remember them carefully.
On such-and-such a date, Jiang the Human Emperor personally demonstrated the essence of “returning to the natural state.”
“And this lady is…?”
Li Nian’er asked.
“You may take her as an ordinary person without cultivation.”
“My name is Hong,” said the Red Dust Fairy softly.
Her voice carried a melodic and ethereal resonance, as though echoing from both near and far. At that moment, Zhang Konghu was still sound asleep. Although most cultivators replaced sleep with meditation once their cultivation advanced, Zhang Konghu always insisted that actual sleep felt better—so he made sure to sleep every day.
(End of Chapter)