Qian Chen slung the Heavenly Net Umbrella over his back once more and changed into a newly tailored Daoist robe.
Tied to his waist was that red gourd, containing the primordial qi pills he had refined previously, along with the spirit grain and spiritual spring water delivered by Cui Dan. Packed inside the Qiankun bag were the spirit talismans, spirit pills, magical implements, and sundry items left behind by Miaokong, as well as the meditation mat and sleeping couch he had purchased earlier. Hidden within the Two Realms Bronze Tablets in his robe were worldly possessions of no real value to him, such as gold, silver, and mundane weapons.
The Dragon Sparrow Ring remained on his wrist, concealing the Seven Baleful Banner and the Black Gold Baleful Hook within its depths.
Ever since he had used this setup to ambush Hong Sihai, Qian Chen had grown increasingly fond of keeping his magical implements tucked away like this; deploying them proved exceptionally convenient.
Everything on Qian Chen's person weighed less than ten jin. Compared to the caravan accompanying Cui Dan to his post, or the heavy baggage borne by travelers on the roads, he truly traveled light.
"Just how is one supposed to read this map?"
Standing upon the Flying Cloud Pouch, hovering several tens of li above the ground, Qian Chen watched the mountains and rivers wind beneath him, staring with a forehead full of exasperated black lines at the map in his hands.
The map here was nothing like the satellite maps of his past life, which featured aerial contours and geographical topography. Rather, it was an imperial chart of the Great Jin Dynasty, showing cities, official thoroughfares, commercial routes, and waterways. Yet every feature was drawn purely according to the impressions of traveling merchants. For example, along the road toward Jiuzhen Commandery, a particular mountain had been illustrated as towering grandly over the rest, easily outstripping the dozen or so peaks around it by leaps and bounds.
As Qian Chen flew through the sky, he had kept a keen eye out for this prominent landmark along the way...
Only after flying past several desolate, craggy mountains did he realize he had gone astray. When he finally tracked down the right location, he was greeted by a remarkably low ridge. Far from towering over majestic summits, it seemed utterly unremarkable even among the dozen surrounding hills.
Infuriated, Qian Chen had lowered his cloud to ask for directions, only to find that among passing merchants, this mountain was indeed famous.
When he inquired about the reason, he learned that it was the only mountain on the trade route that travelers had to climb over; had it been truly lofty and perilous, no merchant trail would ever have run through it. What made this ridge so peculiar was that it was neither tall nor short. Skirting around it was not worth the detour, while trudging over it proved tiring, and bandits frequently raided the pass. Consequently, it served as a crucial choke point along the journey.
As for whether the other mountains were tall or not?
Passing wayfarers never had to climb them, so what did it matter how tall they were?
Thus, this hill had been drawn with great grandeur on the imperial chart. As for the untrodden wild peaks and desolate crags, however perilous they might be, since they lay nowhere near the road, a mere careless stroke with a brush was enough to suggest impassable terrain. Why bother detailing them?
Only then did Qian Chen come to a realization: terrestrial maps were meant for those traveling on the ground. Though vital for two warring nations maneuvering armies, they were useless to someone like him who soared high above.
Without flight-capable magical implements, even a cultivator of the Spell Comprehension realm who could project an escape light for a brief burst of several tens of li would be deemed possessed of remarkably deep true qi. Soaring hundreds of zhang high on a cloud as Qian Chen did, drifting leisurely through the air, was an extravagant display—the equivalent of tearing down a highway in a Maybach in his past life.
It was bound to draw envious gazes from any traveler who caught sight of it.
Qian Chen was steering what amounted to a supercar among cultivators' magical implements. Moreover, it was neither a flying sword nor a flying boat—those commonplace vessels used for short- or middle-distance flights—but a rare cloud-prohibition flight implement, a craft mastered only by the authentic Daoist orthodoxy. It was like a Ferrari with an aristocratic pedigree among supercars; among wandering cultivators, such affluence was enough to provoke righteous indignation.
Cloud-riding implements were not particularly fast, but they offered supreme comfort and consumed very little magical power, much like a luxury airship from Qian Chen's former world...
After all, most cultivators traveling abroad prioritized speed. The Buddhist sects might also demand stability and strong defense, while wandering cultivators and unorthodox sects invariably looked for cheapness, minimal expenditure of natural treasures, and less painstaking effort during ritual refinement.
Consequently, a flying sword—capable of both self-defense and slaying enemies externally, and light-riding flight internally—was naturally the most practical choice for wandering cultivators. Whether riding a flying sword was comfortable or drained a bit too much magical power fell outside their consideration. Buddhist cultivators preferred lotuses, jeweled canopies, and the like; speed mattered little, while safety was paramount.
Only true transmission disciples of the Daoist orthodoxy required high altitude, exceptional stability, and low consumption, for flight implements served not only as their conveyances on journeys, but also as indispensable tools for their daily qi-harvesting practice. When a true transmission disciple gathered the pure qi of the highest heavens, it often required several hours, and not just occasionally—their daily cultivation demanded ascending into the azure vault.
Furthermore, Daoist magical power frequently belonged to the pure qi of the clear heavens, which made refining cloud-prohibition implements much more convenient and perfectly aligned with their energy.
For this reason, cloud-prohibition implements possessed a deep Daoist lineage in the Central Lands. Aside from the Daoist orthodoxy and its offshoots, only the overseas dragon clans favored refining such implements. Venturing out on a cloud-prohibition implement was like driving a luxury car in his previous life, naturally enveloped in a "don't touch me" aura. Wandering cultivators who encountered it knew at once that the rider enjoyed Daoist backing, which spared him far more trouble than others might face.
Qian Chen gently nudged the edge of his cloud, putting the chart out of his mind. He flew straight in the direction of Jiuzhen Commandery. To his thinking, since Jiuzhen possessed a vast marsh, as long as he flew in one general direction until he reached the wetlands, he would eventually find it.
So long as he flew a bit lower, he would hardly miss such a conspicuous landmark.
It was the season of the Qingming Festival. The south was wrapped in continuous drizzle, showcasing the picturesque scenery of Jiangnan along the way. Looking down from above, Qian Chen saw verdant shades and fertile fields blanketed in misty spring rain, the earth dripping with luscious green.
It truly answered the old adage: fair is Jiangnan in the third month, gazing through misty rain...
Farmers wearing conical bamboo hats and woven coir raincoats toiled away in the fields, while white egrets took wing from the paddies, leaving behind clear, echoing cries.
In the continuous drizzle, heaven and earth dissolved into a hazy expanse. Qian Chen flew beneath the cloud cover, enjoying a clear view of the ground below, whereas anyone looking up from underneath could scarcely discern a trace of the Flying Cloud Pouch.
Even if someone happened to catch sight of a human figure wreathed in wisps of mist drifting through the clouds, they would only assume their eyes were playing tricks on them.
After flying this way for a full day, he halted to harvest qi and cultivate for the night. By the following morning, as the skies brightened and the morning sun surged forth, Qian Chen could already see shimmering ripples spreading across the horizon. A single glance revealed thousands of mu of water stretching endlessly to meet the skyline, vast as an open sea. Qian Chen knew at once that this had to be an enormous lake marsh.
Above that great marsh, water vapors swirled softly like a layer of fine smoke. Only in the brief instant of sunrise did it reveal its true visage for a fleeting moment.
Before long, as the light drizzle resumed, the veil descended once more.
Qian Chen brought his cloud down, looking for signs of human habitation, and touched down beside a ridge between the paddies. Shielded by the Flying Cloud Pouch in the sky, he had not noticed the dampness, but once he landed, the fine drizzle brushed his face, light as mist. Before long, his Daoist robe was wet.
He had no choice but to unfurl the Heavenly Net Umbrella, walking through the rain toward the village ahead.
*Ever since the Heavenly Net Umbrella fell into my hands, this is the first time it has ever fulfilled its original purpose!*
Feeling the caressing spring breeze and delicate drizzle, Qian Chen felt no irritation; in fact, he rather enjoyed the sensation and did not mind that his clothes were damp. He simply circulated his true qi, and the raindrops clinging to him soon evaporated into thin mist.
Early-rising farmers were tending to their crops in the fields. It was the rice-transplanting season, but because the hour was still early and the dew was heavy, only the most industrious villagers were up at this time organizing seedlings. Spotting an elderly man with graying hair, Qian Chen walked to the edge of the field and called out, "Venerable Elder! Is this Jiuzhen Commandery, and is Jiuzhen Great Marsh just ahead?"
Holding down his bamboo hat, the old man shouted back from the paddy, "This is indeed Jiuzhen Commandery. Who might you be, and what brings you to our village?"
Qian Chen smiled. "Venerable Elder, I am a passing Daoist priest on my way to Jiuzhen Great Marsh. Having happened upon your esteemed land, I have come to ask for directions."
The farmer peered intently, barely making out Qian Chen's Daoist robe through the rain and mist. Only then did he believe him a little. Waving his hand, he said, "What 'esteemed land'? This is Sanyang Village. Jiaobu Town is nearby, and it does indeed border the great marsh." With that, the farmer set down his wooden plow, stepped through the mud, and climbed back up to the bank. He rinsed his feet in an irrigation ditch beside the field and walked toward Qian Chen.
Drawing closer, he could finally see Qian Chen's appearance clearly. Qian Chen wore a green Daoist robe, his hair bound neatly in a Ziwu topknot secured by an ice-jade hairpin.
The jade pin was inserted straight from the center of the forehead through to the back of the head, gathering all of his hair up.
Qian Chen stood there with effortless ease, looking unmistakably young and brimming with a vibrant Daoist aura.
Seeing how young Qian Chen appeared, the old man let down his guard somewhat. Moreover, observing the fine stitching of the Daoist robe and the hairpin as transparent as ice, he reasoned that they could not have been cheap. The old man could not tell that the ice-jade hairpin was actually an ice needle formed of Ice Soul True Qi, assuming it to be some rare kind of icy jade, but such attire undoubtedly marked him as someone from a wealthy household.
While wealthy scions were not necessarily good people, they would hardly resort to armed robbery in broad daylight.
The old man cupped his hands. "Young Daoist Master, the village is not far. How about I lead you inside?"
"Would that be an inconvenience to you, Elder?" Qian Chen asked, bowing with hands clasped.
"No trouble at all. I was just about to wrap up my work anyway. Outsiders are rarely seen in our village; without someone to guide you, you might run into unnecessary bother." The old man was speaking the truth. Jiuzhen Commandery was remote to begin with, and strangers were a rarity in the countryside. Since this village did not lie along any official highway, familiar faces were all they saw day in and day out; any occasional outsiders were merely passing peddlers. If an unfamiliar face suddenly appeared unannounced, who knew how guarded the villagers might become?
It was only because Qian Chen looked young, appeared to hail from a respectable background, and spoke with polite refinement. Had he worn cropped hair and tattoos like a barbarian, the old man would have run straight back to summon the able-bodied men of the village.
Although bandits were few in Jiuzhen Commandery, the oddities lurking within Jiuzhen Great Marsh and the neighboring barbarian tribes were a genuine menace.
Qian Chen expressed his gratitude and followed the old man into the settlement. The village was quite large. The old man first led Qian Chen to his own home, warmly inviting him inside for a drink of water. Qian Chen noted that the old man owned a three-room tiled house. In the fenced courtyard, the old man's daughter-in-law was feeding chickens; upon catching sight of an outsider, she retreated shyly back indoors.
Qian Chen politely declined the old man's offer with a smile. The old man did not press the matter, simply stepping inside to put away his bamboo hat and coir raincoat.
Chapter 48