Chapter Thirteen: The Old Man of the He Family

Seeing Liu Chen capture Lu Qingzong, the Taoist atop the earthen fortress let out a sigh. In his eyes, being seized by a martial powerhouse like Liu Chen meant one was as good as dead, with little hope for survival. Moreover, he discerned in Liu Chen’s movements an unmistakable style belonging to the military, and thus naturally assumed Liu Chen was a scout sent by the rebel army.

He possessed some understanding of the rebels’ origins; they were garrison troops under the Grand Governor’s office of Annan, and even before their uprising, had frequent conflicts with the accompanying Taoist priests of the Spirit Treasure sect. Now, with the banner of rebellion raised, their behavior would surely be even more brazen. In his mind, Lu Qingzong had not even the slimmest chance of survival—his fate was worse than death.

Yet, having categorized Liu Chen as a rebel scout, the Taoist was nonetheless beset by doubts. From what he knew, martial artists bred in the army generally prioritized offense, embracing a ‘your death, my injury’ philosophy, and rarely focused on hard defensive skills. For Liu Chen to withstand the full-force blows of two strongmen and remain capable of action seemed utterly incomprehensible.

Regardless, the strength Liu Chen displayed was enough to warrant vigilance. After witnessing Liu Chen’s departure, the Taoist immediately ordered heightened alertness within the fortress—no relaxation was permitted even for a moment.

After delegating tasks to others, he dispatched one strongman back to Xin City to report Liu Chen’s appearance. Finally, he instructed another strongman to conceal himself and provide close protection, guarding against Liu Chen’s possible infiltration.

He then swiftly made his way to the backyard of the He family, the fortress lords.

At that moment, the backyard was bustling with a dozen or so robust men hauling materials, constructing a three-tiered square platform. The structure was nearly complete, with only some finishing touches needed; if progress continued at the current pace, it would be done in a few hours.

This was the ritual altar Lu Qingzong had mentioned when reprimanding the mountain folk. After learning of the rebels’ arrival, the prefect of Xin City had sought counsel from the resident Spirit Treasure Taoist, Master Lu Changming.

As a Daoist Master, Lu Changming did not disappoint the prefect, providing a plan to lay a grand Daoist formation—the Heavenly Net—across Xin City. He immediately summoned a hundred or so Lu family disciples, assigning them among the city’s four fortresses to establish ritual altars as foundation stones for the formation.

Altogether, thirty-two such altars were to be erected. Lu Qingzong’s third uncle, Lu Changcheng, was in charge of the altar at the He family fortress. Originally, Lu Changcheng intended to pursue perfection, but after encountering Liu Chen and sensing the threat, his patience for refinement evaporated.

“Stop what you’re doing now and clear the area around the altar—quickly!”

His face darkened as he addressed the men, tense from his sudden arrival, with a severe tone.

“What are you standing around for? Didn’t you hear Master Lu’s instructions?”

Lu Changcheng’s abrupt change in plans left the workers bewildered for a moment, and his irritation over Liu Chen’s appearance quickly gave way to visible anger. At that moment, He An, head of the He family and master of the fortress, entered the backyard. Seeing the commotion, he immediately called out, prompting the men into action.

“So it’s Lord He. Forgive me for losing my composure in the face of urgent matters and venting my temper on the common folk. I am ashamed, truly ashamed!”

Turning to greet He An, Lu Changming suppressed his inner agitation and forced a smile.

The He family was an ordinary household of farmers and scholars, not particularly prominent in Xin City. However, their ancestors had long-standing ties with the Lu family, and now they were almost inseparable. He An, for instance, was well acquainted with many Lu family elders, and Lu Changcheng dared not treat him lightly.

“No need to worry. I was just sipping tea when word reached me of the incident outside the fortress. Hearing that someone could subdue Qingzong with a single blow, I spilled my tea in fright. Your agitation is perfectly understandable.”

He An, a white-haired elder nearing seventy, was gentle in manner, having benefited from the Lu family’s Daoist health practices. Seeing Lu Changcheng in distress, he offered a self-deprecating remark to soothe him, before explaining his visit.

“I’ve heard martial artists excel at night raids. Should you require night patrols, just say the word, and my family’s storeroom is at your disposal.”

Smiling broadly, the elderly He An spoke with magnanimity, producing a small seal from his sleeve and offering it to Lu Changming.

“There’s no need for concern, Lord He. My earlier disarray was due to being caught off guard. I suspect the intruder’s military bearing marks him as a rebel scout, here to probe our defenses. I’ve already sent word to Master Lu Changming, who will soon activate the altar. When the thirty-two heavenly saints descend, even ten such warriors would pose no threat.”

Lu Changcheng eyed the storeroom seal with evident temptation. The Lu family’s foundational practice, the Thirty-Two Heavenly Saints’ Ritual, was a method of honoring spirits and deities. Cultivation required a pure heart, but such purity was rare. Most Lu disciples relied on grand offerings to the saints, seeking divine favor for progress.

Each grand offering drained enormous resources, so a He family storeroom freely given was a treasure indeed. He knew well how, two decades prior during the flood, the He family had amassed wealth through the Lu family’s grain reserves.

Yet he dared not accept.

Every world has its own rules and laws; brute force alone does not govern all. He An, without question, was a pillar of local order. Though he was but a frail old man, Lu Changcheng could not simply take what he pleased. If he accepted one share now, the Lu family would owe three in return, and ultimately, Lu Changcheng himself would bear the cost.

So, despite He An’s warmth and generosity, Lu Changcheng could only grit his teeth and refuse.

“That settles it, then. I’ve always heard of your Thirty-Two Heavenly Saints, but never seen them. This time, I hope to witness it myself. As for the seal, keep it with you—who knows what might happen in war? If something unexpected occurs, you won’t be delayed. I leave everything here in your hands!”

Satisfied with Lu Changcheng’s explanation, He An nodded repeatedly. He seemed unconcerned about the refusal of his storeroom, firmly pressing the seal upon Lu Changcheng. He then instructed his two sons, who had accompanied him, to stay home so as not to disrupt Lu Changcheng’s preparations.