The shade of the mountains brings a coolness, green trees arch overhead like a canopy.
The He Family's villa is hidden deep within the mountains, its courtyard thick with locust trees; even at midsummer, the air is as crisp and cool as early autumn.
"No wonder, in ancient times, royal nobles all had their own summer retreats..." Zhang Fan murmured quietly.
Earlier, he'd thought that changing places wouldn't make much difference in how cool it felt, but now, seeing this, he realized how naive he'd been.
"The He Family's courtyard is planted with locust trees..."
Old Yu spoke as he helped Wen He unload the jars.
The locust tree, also known as the Ghost Tree, is a tree that gathers yin, thriving on the absorption of Yin Qi over the years, and is a favorite among spirit monsters.
Ordinary families would never plant such trees, but...
The locust is also called the Money Tree; if planted in the right place, it attracts wealth from all eight directions. As the saying goes: "With a locust at home, descendants will prosper."
Of course, there are many taboos about where to plant a locust. If you get the spot wrong, great misfortune follows. As in, "A misplaced locust invites disaster; children fall in the home."
By now, the crests of sixteen Iron Rooster jars had all been removed, set atop a handcart.
"Fanfan, you're a newcomer—you'd better not go inside your first time here." Wen He gently reminded him.
This is the Immortal Family's altar, not a place where outsiders are welcomed lightly, lest accidents occur.
Of course, the real reason was that Zhang Fan practiced the Zhenwu Mountain Dharma Lineage; the energy he carried was distinctive. Wen He feared his entry might alert or unsettle the Immortal Family inside the hall.
"Zhang, just wait here—don't go wandering."
Old Yu gave one last instruction and went off with Wen He, pushing the small cart into the He Family compound.
Zhang Fan, growing bored, began to wander the courtyard alone.
To call this a courtyard was understatement—it was more like a garden. There were more plants here than in all his own neighborhood combined.
"The lives of the wealthy... really are beyond imagination."
Zhang Fan mused, thinking that if he could inherit such a family estate, he'd surely have advanced his Cultivation to the High Skill rank by now.
"Wangfeng Hall!?"
Just then, Zhang Fan came upon a pavilion, looking up at the bold characters on its signboard.
These days, more and more are treading the path of Chuma; some with shallow Dao Practice who lack even an Immortal Family to venerate, yet still gather disciples and open altars, all for the sake of profit.
Because of this, the Chuma branch is currently in its golden age; especially the five old clans of Hu Huang Bai Liu Hui. Their power is beyond anything before.
Zhang Fan had also heard: Those who practice Chuma venerate Immortal Families and set up altar halls—Chuma Hall, Household Protection Hall, Law Enforcement Hall, and so on.
Each hall is different in scale and function.
This Wangfeng Hall, though, was a new one to him.
"Big brother, what are you doing here?"
Just then, a sweet, intimate voice chimed out behind him, like a ring of silver bells.
Zhang Fan turned. Walking toward him was a twin-tailed high school girl in a JK uniform.
"It's you..."
Zhang Fan recognized her at a glance—the very girl he'd met days ago on the subway.
"I'm making a delivery—are you with the He Family?"
"That's right... What a coincidence, running into you again, big brother."
He Huan stepped closer, brushing up beside Zhang Fan, and a delicate fragrance wafted toward him.
"So you're a Chuma practitioner," Zhang Fan mused aloud.
"I don't even like this stuff... but my family insists..."
He Huan pouted, face full of grievance, her eyes shimmering as if on the verge of tears—she looked every bit the bullied porcelain doll.
"Wangfeng Hall... What does it mean?" Zhang Fan abruptly shifted topics.
"My great-grandfather's Immortal Family patron is different from the rest—he once received a royal grant..."
"That makes us He Family distinct among the Chuma practitioners." He Huan spoke softly.
"Received a royal grant?" Zhang Fan asked, puzzled.
"His word outweighs the princes!"
"Long ago—over twenty years now—my great-grandfather's Immortal Family patron received guidance from a true master." He Huan's voice was low and solemn.
"A master? How masterful are we talking?"
"Divine Demon Holy Embryo!"
A simple four words, but Zhang Fan's heart nearly skipped a beat.
Twenty years ago, the He Family's ancestor met a true master, famed for cultivating the Divine Demon Holy Embryo—peerless Divine Techniques, unrivaled in all directions.
Because of that fortune, the He Family's status in Yujing City was unmatched—even other Chuma practitioners could not cross the river, could not enter Yujing's territory.
Yujing City stands dominant at the Yangtze's natural fortress—the birthplace of the Water Dragon of the world.
In the eyes of cultivators, this was a treasure among all Red Dust lands.
The He Family had ruled supreme in Yujing's Chuma circles for twenty years now.
"Dividing the river as a boundary—that was the rule made by that master back then." He Huan intoned gravely.
"What if someone tries to cross?" Zhang Fan asked casually.
"Their line ends. No descendants."
He Huan's red lips parted to utter the words.
"That's ruthless! He really dares kill at will?" Zhang Fan couldn't help himself.
Po Jie had cautioned him a thousand times: In these times, cultivators must not kill wantonly!
"Perhaps, in the eyes of such masters, we ordinary folk barely count as human anymore." Longing flickered in He Huan's beautiful eyes.
"Madness... People like that are doomed to die out." Zhang Fan thought to himself darkly.
For a low-leveled, ordinary cultivator like him, the existence of such figures was no blessing.
"Divine Demon Holy Embryo... Can anyone really master that Technique in this world?" Zhang Fan muttered softly.
"Big brother, you seem awfully interested in the Divine Demon Holy Embryo?" He Huan sidled closer, gently swaying Zhang Fan's arm.
"A little curious."
"My grandpa says it's the most vicious Technique in the world—even among Daoist Inner Elixir Methods, it's a top-secret, superior art..."
"If you're interested, my He Family's got ancient texts and secret tomes with records about it. Would you like to see?"
He Huan was both attentive and generous; in her limpid eyes, there was an enticing blend of innocence and allure. She took Zhang Fan's hand, a comforting warmth passing between them.
"I'd like to look."
Just a novice, Zhang Fan's thirst for all things Daoist was intense—like a sponge soaking up water.
The two made their way out of the courtyard and up the stone steps into the rear mountain. The farther they walked, the more secluded it grew; twisted, monstrous trees loomed around, and the ground was littered with broken rock and wasteland.
Zhang Fan eyed their surroundings with a frown, his steps slowing under growing unease.
"Big brother, your heart's beating pretty fast, you know?"
Just then, He Huan asked gently.
No sooner had her words faded than a bloody wind kicked up. He Huan spun around; jade-pale fingers suddenly lengthening into razor-sharp talons gleaming coldly as steel, she lunged straight for Zhang Fan's throat.
Whoosh—
In the same instant, Zhang Fan's body dropped, gliding away like a serpent. He slipped under those talons, instantly widening the gap between them to ten meters.
"Didn't even spill any blood!?"
He Huan's earlier innocence was gone; her pretty face twisted with deep annoyance.
"What's the meaning of this?" Zhang Fan landed lightly, voice steady and deep.
He couldn't make sense of it—no grudges, no enmity. Why would this girl try to kill him here, at her own home, no less?
"What do you mean, what's the meaning?" Killing you, obviously. Big brother, you still don't get it?"
He Huan spoke with icy calm; the light in her beautiful eyes turned piercing and cold, now utterly devoid of human warmth.
At the same time, a strange cry rose out from a gap in the wild grass behind her, sharp and grating, like a fox wailing in misery.
Zhang Fan's eyes narrowed, alarmed in spite of himself.
"We who practice Chuma and venerate Immortal Families—what's most nourishing, you ask...?" He Huan crooked her finger, pointing at Zhang Fan.
"Daoists say a human is worth five hundred more years of Dao Practice than any spirit monster. They must toil for half a millennium just to become human, and even then, out of the multitudes, how many ever become Immortal in the end?"
He Huan's gaze fixed on Zhang Fan, while the fox's cry behind her grew more shrill, thick with longing.
"Since that's the way of it, why bother with all that bitter cultivation? Better to take pleasure where you can!"
At these words, excitement flashed across He Huan's delicate face. She licked her lips, eyes on Zhang Fan: "Be good, big brother. Let me kill you!"