Chapter One: The Cautious Crow

Late autumn in September, yellow leaves drifted and fell.

The cold wind cut like a blade, sweeping away the petty struggles of the world.

A donkey cart piled with firewood came from the north, its wheels crunching over a carpet of fallen branches and leaves.

The old man driving the cart raised his leather whip, snapping it now and then across the donkey’s haunches.

Lying atop the firewood at the back, Lu Zhou yawned, hands folded behind his head, gazing up at the gray, misty sky. The crack of the whip rang in his ears as he silently counted in his heart.

“One thousand three hundred sixty-five…”

This journey was endlessly long and dull. Lu Zhou, stretched out on the donkey cart, found it terribly boring, but he knew that these were his final moments of leisure before returning to the city of Shenzhou.

“Mister Lu, we should reach Shenzhou before dusk.”

“All right.”

“Mister Lu, a couple of days back at the border, I saw you hand the northern guards a token—it looked like a Lingyun Pavilion badge. Aren’t all cultivators from Lingyun Pavilion supposed to possess supernatural powers? Why bother riding this old man’s donkey cart instead of using your powers to travel?”

“Because I need the people in Shenzhou to know I’ve returned.”

“Is someone waiting for you in Shenzhou?”

“There will be, once I’m back… Shenzhou now belongs to the Sui Kingdom. Old sir, it’s no longer proper to call it the Northlands.”

“Oh, Mister Lu, old habits die hard—please don’t take offense.”

“It’s nothing. I’ll rest for a bit. Call me when we arrive in Shenzhou.”

With that, Lu Zhou closed his eyes, sighing softly in his heart. Where had he left off counting?

…

“Lu Zhou, spare me, I swear I’ll turn over a new leaf.”

“What do you think I’ll do?”

“You’ve killed people too—we’re the same, your hands are stained with blood. Even if you go back to the police, the judge will still try you. We’re grasshoppers tied to the same rope.”

“You and I are different. I’m not as filthy as you.”

“I thought you’d let me go. I’m sick of living undercover. You were an undercover too—you should understand me. Give me a chance?”

“How?”

“Let me go. I’ll start over.”

“You can start over in prison.”

“So that’s it, nothing left to say?”

“You can talk to the judge.”

“You want me dead? We were brothers—if one dies, we both should die. Heh heh…”

Boom!

Lu Zhou’s eyes snapped open. The dull sunlight hung above, the firewood beneath him belonged to the donkey cart, and he could still hear the old man’s whip.

He exhaled deeply.

After all these years, the lesson he’d learned from being blown up in his previous life was…

He hadn’t been cautious enough.

His eyes were those of a young man—no wrinkles at the corners, his face sharply defined, yet his gaze was filled with worries far beyond his age.

The old carter gave a shout and pulled the donkey to a halt.

“Mister Lu, we’re just outside Shenzhou.”

Lu Zhou’s expression changed, the air of youth returning as he leapt from the cart and tossed the pouch at his waist over to the old man.

“This—this is too much.”

“The road was long and steep. Thank you for your trouble.”

“It’s what I should do, what I should do.”

The old man timidly accepted the pouch, his face anxious and reverent.

Not far ahead, Shenzhou glowed in the sunset. The distant bustle sounded as lively as it had thirty years ago when he’d left. Approaching, he could see Sui Kingdom soldiers with gleaming blades and halberds. The soldiers’ martial austerity and the city’s revelry seemed two separate streams, yet ultimately, they converged.

As Lu Zhou walked away, the stooped old man’s back straightened slowly. Withered fingers traced through the air, and a paper crane glowing with an eerie green light appeared in his hand.

“Lu Zhou, former disciple of Qingxi Academy in Shenzhou; defected from his sect and joined Qian Cui Peak of Lingyun Pavilion. Over seventy years of cultivation, at the Core Formation stage. Purpose in Shenzhou unknown.”

His fingers danced, inscribing Lu Zhou’s information onto the paper crane, which vanished in a blink into the gathering dusk.

Lu Zhou paused at the city gate, glancing back, his eyes clear as water.

If they could measure his depth so easily, he wouldn’t have returned at all.

When the old man caught the money pouch, he hadn’t even checked the amount inside. His performance was flawless, but to Lu Zhou—an expert in micro-expressions and criminal psychology—it was riddled with flaws.

But whose agent was he?

The Imperial Guard?

The Embroidered Uniform Bureau?

Or the Tea Bureau?

To be checked like this the moment he returned—clearly, Shenzhou was far from as peaceful as it seemed.

Entering the city, he found no drifting yellow leaves.

Lu Zhou first found an inn and settled in.

He glanced at the setting sun. It was still early.

He made his way, as if by habit, to Qingxi Academy in the city’s south. Since the Sui Kingdom had taken Shenzhou ten years ago, Qingxi Academy had grown desolate. Though the grass at its gates wasn’t overgrown, the weathered lintel spoke of decline.

Everyone in the city was eager to flee south—who still cared for learning and cultivation?

Qingxi Academy was a small cultivation sect in Shenzhou, taking Confucianism as a path to the Dao. Such small sects abounded in this world, their survival unchanged whether the Sui Kingdom or the Southern Zhou ruled the land—only their ways of life shifted.

Lu Zhou stood in the courtyard, and inside the house, he heard Li Murong expounding on the classics, just as he had thirty years ago.

The voice suddenly ceased.

The door swung open. Li Murong stepped out, trailed by four disciples and his daughter, Li Zhilian. When she saw Lu Zhou in the yard, a flicker of astonishment crossed her eyes, quickly replaced by worry.

“Lu Zhou, you have the nerve to return!” One disciple strode forward, shouting in anger.

This was Huang Dacheng, his face bristling with whiskers, his gaze as sharp as a hawk’s.

“A traitor to master and forebears—you hid all these years, and finally dare to return.”

“I hear you joined Lingyun Pavilion—you’ve become a running dog for the north, haven’t you?”

“Shameless—selling your ancestors for glory!”

The former brothers-in-arms all chimed in, as if their spittle could drown Lu Zhou, yet none dared lay a hand on him.

Back then, Lu Zhou had been the most advanced cultivator among Qingxi Academy’s disciples. Thirty years had passed—who could guess what his strength was now?

Li Zhilian wrung her hands anxiously, but before her father spoke, she didn’t know what to say.

Li Murong’s gaze was icy cold as he looked at Lu Zhou.

Lu Zhou met his gaze, calm and indifferent.

At last, Li Murong spoke.

“I crippled your cultivation all those years ago. Who’d have guessed you’d escape to Lingyun Pavilion? Seems you haven’t achieved much in their temple either.”

Only then did the surrounding disciples realize Lu Zhou had once been crippled. Remembering their own bravado only moments ago, a flush of embarrassment crept up.

Lu Zhou’s expression remained serene.

“A Lingyun Pavilion badge is enough.”

“Relying on Lingyun Pavilion’s influence—do you think that’s enough to stand firm? In the north, strength matters most. At Core Formation, you’re barely fit to be a lackey. You’d best return to your temple and keep cultivating.”

“I’m not here to discuss cultivation.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To tell you—I’ve returned.”

“With your current Core Formation strength, you pose no threat to me.”

“What if I enter the Governor’s Office?”

Lu Zhou smiled, turned, and walked away. His pace was unhurried, but he never faltered, even as the voices of his former brothers barked that they’d teach him a lesson. He knew, though, that none would dare.

He was now a disciple of Lingyun Pavilion. Shenzhou belonged to the Sui Kingdom; no one would dare attack a disciple of its foremost sect—much less someone about to take office in the Governor’s Office.

The wind had died, yet Lu Zhou felt a deeper chill.

Back at the inn, he ordered a pot of wine. He tested it with a silver needle, swallowed an antidote pill, then drank alone in the courtyard.

Halfway through, a young woman entered—the same junior sister he’d seen at the academy, Li Zhilian, dressed in pale green. She moved swiftly from the gate, brows gently arched, her small nose slightly upturned, her face like white jade.

“You’re here.”

Li Zhilian said nothing, only looked at him.

Lu Zhou smiled, “No need to stare so. I’m thin-skinned. I know your feelings, but we’re simply not suited for each other.”

Still, she remained silent.

“Haven’t seen you for years—have you gone deaf?”

Li Zhilian’s cheeks flushed; she glared at him, annoyed.

Lu Zhou chuckled, “So you’re not deaf after all. How about a drink? Sometimes it’s hard to speak your mind, but after a few cups, words flow freely.”

“I don’t drink.”

Lu Zhou squinted, smile lines crinkling at his eyes, “If you don’t drink, would you really come all this way just to see me? Don’t tell me you crossed the city for any reason but me. Junior sister, it’s been so many years—no need to dwell on the past. You’re a fine woman; better men await you.”

“I just want to ask—are you really going to serve the northerners as their lackey?”

“Don’t put it so harshly, junior sister—how can you call it being a lackey? A wise bird chooses the right tree. Judging the situation is a cultivator’s self-cultivation. Besides, it was Li Murong who cast me out. Did I have a choice?”

“My father…”

“He is your father, not mine. Will you drink or not?”

“No.”

“Fine, then let’s go to my room.”

“To your room?”

“A night of spring is worth a thousand gold.”

“…”

Li Zhilian wouldn’t drink, nor would she go to his room. She was deeply disappointed—the senior brother she had once admired had become someone who cared only for advantage and power.

Lu Zhou lifted the wine pot, poured the last drop, and swirled it. The laughter faded from his eyes.

When Master said “go back to your temple,” he must have meant…

That abandoned Qingxu Temple in Shenzhou?