The sun rose and set, and in the blink of an eye, several days had passed.
The disappearance of Widow Wang stirred some ripples in the village.
Some said she had taken her daughter and headed beyond the pass, intending to return to her hometown.
Others whispered that the woman, always muttering strangely, had gone completely mad and planned to sell her daughter to a human trafficker in Chang'an City.
Of course, these were just rumors.
A widow from an outsider family, always reeking of filth, was hardly someone the villagers cared for.
Who would truly concern themselves with her fate?
At most, they might sigh over the pitiful state of her child, not yet four years old.
Village head Li Huairen cared even less.
He promptly sent someone to report her disappearance to the local authorities, then had his servants seize the land she left behind. This infuriated a few others who had harbored the same intention, leading to a flurry of curses behind his back.
And so, this was the entirety of the mark left by Widow Wang's family in the Li Family Village.
…
Gululu!
Several old horses strained to pull the stone roller.
The summer harvest was approaching, and the fields were alive with waves of golden wheat.
It was not yet time for reaping, but farm work was far from scarce.
The women were busy picking mulberry leaves to raise silkworms and cooking meals for their families, young and old.
The men retrieved sickles, wooden forks, shovels, and rakes from the storehouse, repairing and maintaining them in preparation for the harvest.
Beyond that, the threshing ground had to be leveled and smoothed with the stone roller.
After all, gathering grain was like waging war. If preparations were inadequate and something went wrong during the harvest—say, a sudden rain—the entire year would be a struggle.
Li Yan was not idle either, feeding the horses at the threshing ground.
"Brother Yan, these beasts are top-notch, no question about it," said Du Sixi, the cart driver, flashing a wide grin full of crooked teeth, spittle flying as he made his pitch. "Horses in their prime, about ten years old, no serious injuries. They might not cover a thousand miles a day, but they can handle regular trips to Chang'an without issue…"
"To roam the martial world, you need a blade—but without a horse, how can you make it work?"
The Li Family Village was not wealthy. Only the village head, Li Huairen, owned a few old horses for work, occasionally riding them for a leisurely stroll.
Even that was enough to make the young men of the village envious.
Li Yan, naturally, wanted a horse of his own—not for vanity, but to practice mounted archery and make trips to Chang'an more convenient.
At this moment, however, his mind was elsewhere.
Looking at Du Sixi, who was still boasting, Li Yan felt a spark of curiosity and asked, "Old Du, are there any famous Taoist temples in Chang'an City?"
Widow Wang and her daughter had been gone for days.
No one knew that a terrifying entity had once crept into the village to wreak havoc.
Though the matter had settled, for Li Yan, it was only the beginning.
First, he knew the misfortunes in his family—the untimely deaths of his father and his previous self—were caused by an enemy's curse, using a sinister technique known as yansheng. The foe was ruthless, capable of tampering even with objects bestowed by the imperial court. Their influence was clearly not trivial, and if they learned their spell had failed, they might stir up trouble again.
Moreover, Li Yan had no intention of letting this matter rest.
Second, according to Widow Wang, he had awakened his yang six roots, gaining a supernatural sense of smell. Sooner or later, malevolent spirits would come for him.
Thus, entering the mysterious world of the Xuanmen—the Taoist esoteric arts—had become his most pressing goal.
Du Sixi, the man before him, was a cart driver from the neighboring Du Family Village. He often traveled between nearby villages, ferrying people to Chang'an or hauling goods.
These past few days, he had been helping several villages by using his horses to pull stone rollers.
Though he appeared unremarkable, Du Sixi was a man of the martial world.
The martial world encompassed the "five trades and eight crafts." The five trades included cart drivers, boatmen, innkeepers, porters, and brokers, while the eight crafts referred to various artisans—blacksmiths, carpenters, tanners, and the like.
The martial world was not just about fighting and killing; it was also about making a living.
Some factions within the five trades and eight crafts commanded respect even from notorious outlaws on the greenwood path.
For instance, boatmen were backed by the Raft Sect in the south, the Canal Gang in the north, and the Four Seas Gang on the open waters.
Porters, though engaged in grueling labor, had their own gangs at every dock.
Inns, too, were significant. Famous establishments served as rest stops for martial world figures and hubs for the exchange of information.
The cart trade was no different.
Consider this: in a trade that involved transporting goods and people, surviving without backing was impossible, especially for those traveling far and wide.
Where there were people, there were interests; where there were interests, there was the martial world.
In Chang'an City, two major cart guilds, "Taixing" and "Changsheng," dominated the trade. They controlled all cart-related business in the city and even throughout the Guanzhong region, maintaining close ties with escort agencies, prominent inns, canal gangs, porters, and brokers.
Their martial prowess might be average, but their information networks were exceptional.
Du Sixi was a member of the Taixing guild. With his prominent crooked teeth, he had earned the nickname Du Big-Teeth.
Though he lacked great skill and held a lowly position, scraping by in various villages, he knew more than most.
He had once received kindness from Li Yan's father, Li Hu, which was why Li Yan now sought his knowledge.
"No need to ask!" Du Sixi grinned. "Chang'an City may have seen its share of wars, but it's been the capital for several dynasties. With its hundred and eight wards, it's filled with countless Taoist temples and shrines, big and small."
"What, Brother Yan, planning to burn some incense? I'm heading to Chang'an tomorrow…"
Li Yan waved a hand to cut him off, his voice low and serious. "Old Du, I want to know where I can find true Xuanmen masters."
"Xuan… Xuanmen?" Du Sixi blinked, caught off guard. "Why are you asking about that?"
From his tone, it seemed he might actually know something.
Li Yan's heart leaped. Putting on a smile, he pulled Du Sixi to squat under the shade of a tree. "Old Du—no, Uncle Du—if you know something, spill it."
Flattered by the "Uncle Du," Du Sixi felt a rush of warmth but knew better than to get carried away. He chuckled, "Brother Yan, don't tease me. Your father, Tiger Li, was a legend in the Guanzhong martial world. Who doesn't know the name 'Guanzhong Sick Tiger'? How could he not know about these things?"
Li Yan's expression grew thoughtful. "Just tell me what you know. No need for tangents."
In truth, his father had taught him plenty about the martial world, even passing down the secret slang of the trade. Yet, strangely, he had never mentioned anything about the Xuanmen.
Could he have been hiding something on purpose?
Seeing Li Yan's face darken slightly, Du Sixi's heart skipped a beat. Not daring to ramble further, he said, "The martial world has its three religions and nine streams, each with its own hierarchy and skills. I'm just a lowly cart driver, a nobody in the guild, only running errands. I don't know much, but I've overheard a thing or two."
"The term Xuanmen is broad. Anyone with some mystical skill can claim to be part of it, but it's a mixed bag—hard to tell the real from the fake. Still, those with true ability, no one dares underestimate them."
"There are two main factions."
"One is officially recognized by the court, registered with the Ministry of Rites' Mysterious Sacrifices Division. They hold Taoist or Buddhist certifications and oversee famous mountain temples and monasteries. They're called the orthodox Xuanmen, with the most renowned being the Taixuan True Sect."
"The other faction is more varied—yin-yang diviners, shamans, witches, and martial world figures skilled in esoteric arts all count. The orthodox sects look down on them, calling them 'heretical paths,' but in the martial world, their status is far from ordinary. The truly skilled ones are often enshrined by powerful factions."
"But to the average person, it's hard to tell a fraud from the real deal."
Li Yan quickly pressed, "Do you know any Xuanmen figures?"
Du Big-Teeth gave an awkward smile. "Brother Yan, you're joking. I'm just a guy scraping by. In the guild, I'm less than a speck of dirt. With my mortal eyes, how could I know such lofty figures?"
Seeing Li Yan's brows furrow, he hurriedly lowered his voice. "Don't worry, Brother Yan. I may not have much pull, but there's someone with wide connections who's also tied to your family. He'd likely know."
"Who?"
"Sand-Flying Sha!"
"Him?!"
At the mention of the name, Li Yan's expression turned peculiar.
…
After chatting with Du Big-Teeth, Li Yan returned home.
As he arrived, he saw his grandfather, Li Gui, squatting on the threshold, puffing on a large pipe, clouds of smoke swirling around him, his face brimming with irritation.
Li Yan chuckled. "Grandpa, what's got you riled up now?"
The old man scowled, grumbling, "That dog Li Laoshuan cheated at chess! A lowlife who'll never taste a decent meal in his life!"
Li Yan laughed. "Cool off, Grandpa. Tomorrow, you can thrash him again."
These old men played chess not for skill but for bragging rights.
Losing a game was no big deal—losing an argument was what stung.
But wasn't that a good thing?
Ever since the curse in the family plaque had been broken, Li Gui had visibly changed. No longer brooding all day, he seemed to have let go of many burdens.
He'd either play chess with the village elders, fish by the West Creek, or talk about heading to Chang'an to hear opera.
Seeing his grandfather like this warmed Li Yan's heart, but it also deepened his hatred for the one who cast the curse, igniting a murderous intent.
In both his lives, he had never been one to swallow an insult silently.
On his way back, he'd been mulling things over.
Logically, his father, an old hand in the martial world, couldn't have been ignorant of the Xuanmen. He'd taught him everything else, yet this one subject seemed deliberately avoided.
Could his father have been secretly investigating?
But that didn't add up. If he knew about the curse on their family, would he have let that plaque hang above their door?
And his father's death—once unquestioned—now seemed increasingly suspicious.
With this thought, Li Yan's heart stirred. He looked at Li Gui, squatting down with a smile. "Grandpa, who exactly did you offend back then?"
Li Gui's white brows shot up. "Why ask about that?"
Li Yan grinned playfully. "Just curious. Besides, if not for that person, I might've been some official's son. When I'm feeling down and want to curse someone, I'd at least know who to aim at."
"Official's son, my foot!" Li Gui took a drag from his pipe, cursing. "You're fated to dig in the dirt for a living. Don't dream of nonsense. It's been so many years—don't tell me you're thinking of settling old scores?"
"Besides, that person's already dead."
"Dead?!"
*(End of Chapter)*