Volume One: The Emperor's Edict Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Merit of Building a Pagoda

“What was inside?” Not long after, the waterfall split again, and Liu Xiaoyi emerged, distracted and lost in thought.

The turn of events had far exceeded his expectations. The Zhenyuan Mountain, forged entirely from rare Zhenyuan Stone, was a magical artifact of unknown rank, incomparably heavy. Following the practice of cultivators, he dripped his blood onto it, and the mountain transformed into a green light, flying into his body, ready to be summoned at will.

The metal fragment was likely a remnant of the Immortal-Slaying Sword, its spirit shattered, which had allowed him this windfall.

“A stone—and some scrap metal.” He flipped his hand, taking out Zhenyuan Mountain, infused it with magical power, and instantly transported the two out.

The barrier space existed within Zhenyuan Mountain, and from now on, he could freely enter and exit. The twenty-zhang-wide space was perfect for storing miscellaneous items.

“Steward Li, those two little thieves have woken up!” When the two came to their senses, they found themselves in a brightly lit place, nothing like a warehouse.

Dozens of sweating workers bustled about, placing auction items onto display shelves. The pair was securely bound with hemp rope, watched by junior workers. Earlier, it was only their souls that had been sucked in; their unconscious bodies outside had been discovered by workers fetching goods and were promptly taken as thieves.

Steward Li squinted, stroking his short beard, and approached them. “Girl thief, I think I’ve seen you before. Last year, you and an old Daoist not only stole agarwood but injured several of my men, didn't you?”

Meng Qiaoqiao shrank back, afraid to meet his gaze.

“So now you’ve brought along a young Daoist. Just wait—I’ll report you to the authorities and have the magistrate thoroughly investigate your den!” Steward Li barked fiercely, mistaking Liu Xiaoyi’s Daoist robe as proof he was an apprentice of the old Daoist Bai Yiting, and imagined there must be a thieves’ lair disguised as a Daoist temple nearby.

“We’re not thieves. You’ve misunderstood,” Liu Xiaoyi protested.

The area was a hive of activity, and Steward Li had no time to bother with them. He scolded them briefly and departed, leaving the two to exchange helpless glances. Meng Qiaoqiao wanted to break free by force, but Liu Xiaoyi stopped her: “The Feng family’s men are probably still searching. Better to wait here and see how things unfold.”

There was less than a day before the auction commenced. Already, familiar merchants were arriving to gather news, and whenever they passed by the two, they eyed them with disdain.

Many thieves covet the auction, and it was common for some to be caught early, provoking ridicule from the wealthy patrons. Liu Xiaoyi ignored them, sitting cross-legged to cultivate, circulating the Tongxuan Qi Technique to refine his magical power.

This energy was entirely different from true qi: each cycle brought a tranquil ease throughout his body, misty magical power coiling near his dantian spiritual root, forming a wondrous sight.

As dusk fell, a sickly young master arrived, walking unsteadily, and observed Liu Xiaoyi for a moment before whispering to his maid.

Soon, Steward Li hurried over, grinning broadly. “Young Master Gong, have you taken a fancy to something? I’ll fetch it for you at once.”

“What have these two done?” He pointed to the bound pair, noting their attire was not that of paupers—despite some damage to the Daoist robe, the fine silk was unmistakable to a discerning eye.

Steward Li replied dismissively, “Petty thieves caught sneaking in. Clumsy, got nabbed by my staff, and are awaiting delivery to the authorities.”

The young master erupted in a fit of coughing. “A few days ago, a fortune-teller predicted I’d meet them today. Steward Li, please hand them over to me.”

“You two, escort them with Young Master Gong.” Disinclined to deal with officials, Steward Li immediately ordered two clever workers to escort the pair outside with Young Master Gong.

Once through the side door, the workers were sent away. Young Master Gong personally untied their ropes, clasped his hands and bowed. “Please, Immortal Masters, save my life!”

His emotions spilled over, and his coughing became more severe, his back almost hunched. “Young master, do you really believe the fortune-teller’s nonsense? It’s late, you should hurry home and rest lest you catch cold,” pleaded the maid.

“Wait,” Meng Qiaoqiao understood the situation, took out two talismans, and pressed them to his temples. Immediately, his coughing ceased, and his breathing became smooth.

Liu Xiaoyi, perplexed, whispered, “What’s wrong with him? Can you heal illness?”

“Magical power is a panacea for ordinary folk. Transfer some, and their breath will naturally be restored.” Through the talisman, Meng Qiaoqiao sensed a chilling yin energy in his body, and was somewhat alarmed.

“This is no place for conversation. Let’s go to your home to treat you.” Treated kindly, Meng Qiaoqiao was obliged to help. The two followed Young Master Gong to a grand mansion, their jaws dropping in awe.

The Gong family controlled water transport in Seven Stars City, their wealth rivaling the Fengs. Yet, this generation’s male heirs had dwindled, leaving only him, frail and sickly, unable to carry the family’s weight.

For various reasons, the family had brought in a boy from distant relatives, groomed as the heir for twenty years. On the day of the Tianbao Auction, he would represent the Gong family.

Entering a side courtyard, the maid closed the door and fetched a chair, sitting beside it as if guarding against something.

“Immortal Masters, please save Gong Qing’s life!” The eldest son of the Gong family knelt and bowed his head. Liu Xiaoyi moved to help him, but Meng Qiaoqiao held him back, her righteous expression revealing she was well-practiced in such affairs.

“First, how did you know we weren’t thieves?” Meng Qiaoqiao asked, her calm tone tinged with authority, nothing like her usual unruly self.

“Wearing fine garments, why would you steal from a third-grade warehouse?” Gong Qing answered frankly.

Though unable to travel with merchant caravans, his keen sense for quality made him the city’s sharpest merchant. He frequently inspected shops with his maid, keeping himself busy with legitimate business.

“Remove your shirt, sit, and close your eyes.” Meng Qiaoqiao opened her bundle, taking out a set of silver needles and talismans.

Born with a cold constitution—yin overwhelming yang—this was considered a rare and desirable trait among cultivators, not an illness. Meng Qiaoqiao pricked Gong Qing into a hedgehog with silver needles, then pierced them with talismans and pressed them to his skin.

Carefully channeling magical power into Gong Qing, she knew ordinary people were extremely sensitive to it; too much could irreversibly damage their meridians.

Time ticked by. Outside, arguments erupted, and the maid’s curses made Gong Qing grimace in pain. Liu Xiaoyi watched with amusement, suspecting the young master held special feelings for his maid.

Meng Qiaoqiao’s magical power quickly waned—she’d seen her master do this, but lacked the subtleties, simply channeling power until her hands trembled from fatigue.

“Let me try. You rest,” Liu Xiaoyi, itching to help, raised his palm and released magical power. Gong Qing felt a chill on his back as the cold energy spun outwards.

Liu Xiaoyi’s Frost Sword Technique cultivated sword energy imbued with cold, which resonated with Gong Qing’s own energy. Through their magical power, a closed circuit formed, and the sword energy rushed into Gong Qing, clearing his meridians.

By midnight, the maid had fallen asleep at the door, her face still marked by years of persistent worry.

Meng Qiaoqiao sat outside in frustration—why could Liu Xiaoyi, whose level matched hers, last so much longer?

Sword energy was far stronger than mere magical power. After a night’s effort, Gong Qing was completely transformed. As Liu Xiaoyi collapsed into a deep sleep, Gong Qing stood, energized, moving his body in disbelief.

He felt a comfort and warmth he’d never known, and his sickly look vanished, revealing a handsome, refined youth.

“Don’t move yet; the needles are still in, losing your vital energy would be easy.” Meng Qiaoqiao pressed him down, removed the needles and talismans, then used magical power to inspect him internally, discovering a blue-gray pill had formed.

A Cold Core—an attribute cultivators sought, allowing their magical power to carry cold energy—had unexpectedly taken shape in this ordinary man.

With the Cold Core, he was now half a cultivator. Meng Qiaoqiao handed him a Daoist manual. “Practice diligently, and you’ll live a long, vigorous life.”

“Thank you, Immortal Master!” Gong Qing was overwhelmed, bowing deeply in gratitude.

Awakened by the commotion, the maid swung her broom, then rushed into Gong Qing’s arms upon noticing his changed aura.

“Qing’er, I’m alright, I’m alright!”

“Now you won’t suffer anymore! The old folks have all gone to the auction—shall we join the fun?”

“Of course, but I must consult the Immortal Masters first.”

Their affection made Meng Qiaoqiao blush; she poked Liu Xiaoyi awake. “Time to go, good samaritan. Two lovers are best left alone.”

Liu Xiaoyi, experiencing for the first time the exhaustion of overexerting magical power, resolved never to let it happen again. As he dressed to leave, Gong Qing stopped him.

“So great a kindness—I cannot repay. Please, Immortal Masters, come with me to the auction. Take whatever you fancy. I have considerable wealth, and it is yours in gratitude.”

Liu Xiaoyi was reluctant, eager to investigate Tianwang Dao, the fire mark still dormant and seemingly unknown in Seven Stars City.

He had assumed the renowned Zhenzhou Seal would be common knowledge, but apart from numerous shops, the city seemed no different from any other.

This assumption was soon overturned. In the next two or three hours, the atmosphere at the Tianbao Auction was unlike anything he’d seen, not even in the capital.

Gong Qing’s carriage was modest, quietly speeding along under the eaves. They quickly arrived at the auction entrance, handed over their invitation, and were allowed in, though the attendant eyed them with curiosity.