Though vast yellow sands still stretched in every direction, He Lingchuan could clearly sense that this place was vastly different from before.
Travelers came and went, no longer keeping strictly to the Red Cliff Road.
A few children squatted by the roadside playing in the sand. In the past, adults would have harshly barked at them, dragged them over, and given them a good thrashing with a bamboo strip; now, however, no one minded them building little sand huts.
The desert was tranquil, and in shaded spots out of the wind, patches of green grass had even sprouted.
He Lingchuan clearly saw something moving among the nearby dunes, yet it did not pounce on the children.
Qiu Hu and the others looked around in wonder, intrigued. "So this is the famous Panlong Desert?"
They were all veterans of the battlefield, but most had never crossed a desert. Seeing soft dunes that could rise even higher than mountains, they clicked their tongues in amazement.
The desert scenery had a unique charm of its own.
"Famous?" He Lingchuan smiled. "The Panlong Desert is well-known in Mount Rong as well?"
He had previously told them he wanted to visit Panlong City, and the Mount Rong men had simply agreed, following his lead without saying much else.
"Panlong City stood here for over thirty years, resisting foreign foes and fighting against the celestial gods. Countless tragic and heroic tales came from it. We've heard plenty within the sect as well," another Mount Rong spellcaster chimed in. "We hold them in great admiration."
This man was in his thirties, named Xiang Lian, and skilled in logistics.
He Lingchuan asked curiously, "The Mount Rong Sect tells these stories as well?"
"'Past experience is a guide for the future,'" Qiu Hu nodded. "Yes, they do."
He Lingchuan understood. The Mount Rong Sect was also an immortal cultivation power, so they naturally felt goodwill toward Panlong City for resisting celestial gods.
They casually chatted about the history of Panlong City. He Lingchuan discovered that the Mount Rong folk actually knew more historical facts than the commoners of Blackwater City, who were right next door.
The journey proceeded under clear and refreshing skies, with neither wind nor sandstorms.
The next day, they checked into Weicheng Station.
The ancient cities along the Red Cliff Road had all been developed into relay stations for passing merchants and travelers to rest. This "Weicheng" had already been destroyed by the Baling Kingdom when He Lingchuan first entered the Panlong World. Before joining the Panlong City Patrol, He Lingchuan had even claimed to be from Weicheng.
The ancient city had long been eroded by the yellow sands, originally reduced to just a dozen crumbled low walls. Blackwater City used these as foundations to erect new buildings.
By late May, the Red Cliff Trade Route was growing bustling. Staying in the low houses of the station, one could often hear camel bells, horse neighs, and someone striking night-watch clappers outside.
Goods at this ancient relay station were, as always, exorbitantly expensive.
He Lingchuan was not one to pinch pennies here. With a generous wave of his hand, he ordered each of his men an expensive set meal complete with meat, vegetables, and tea.
The meat was genuine camel meat, not some strange desert bugs masquerading as meat.
While He Lingchuan and his companions were eating in the hall, about twenty burly men walked in from outside.
He Lingchuan glanced out the door and saw the station attendants tending to their carriages. Caravan pennants were stuck to the horses' heads, and chests were strapped onto the carriages.
None who entered this place were free of road-dust. They swept their eyes over everyone in the hall a few times before getting their food and water.
Taking advantage of them leaving their tables to fetch provisions, Qiu Hu leaned in toward He Lingchuan and said, "These fellows have a harsh, ruthless edge to them. They're either bandits or soldiers—no good either way."
"One of the chests on their carriage dropped just now, and it sounded completely hollow." He Lingchuan lifted his bowl to sip soup. "They come from the north. This season is usually when goods are transported south; their wagons should be fully loaded to turn a profit."
So this was a fake caravan.
What were they planning to do? A robbery?
Qiu Hu then quietly warned his fellow disciples to stay alert through the night.
Just then, a commotion broke out ahead: several men from that group were arguing with the cook.
"One coarse flour steamed bun and two mouthfuls of plain water, and you dare charge thirty wen!" a man slammed the table. "Is your bun inlaid with gold?!"
The cook serving the food remained expressionless. "That's the price here. If you want cheap, go back home."
The man's expression darkened, and he took a step forward.
The station attendants immediately rushed over. "What are you doing?!"
The man's companion grabbed him back and offered an apologetic smile to the crowd. "He's gone light-headed from the heat. Please don't take offense, folks, don't mind him!"
Turning his head, the smile vanished, and he hissed at the man, "Have you lost your mind? Forgotten our real business?"
The man sat back down sullenly, forced to chew on the thirty-wen bun.
He Lingchuan exchanged a glance with his men. Once they finished eating, they retired, leaving just two behind in the hall to keep watch.
The night passed quietly.
Many guests spent the night at the station. When everyone arose the next morning, nothing had occurred; not a single copper coin was missing.
It seemed yesterday's little episode had amounted to nothing. He Lingchuan and his companions put their minds at ease and continued on their journey.
After traveling along the Red Cliff Road for two days, He Lingchuan returned to Blackwater City.
With the local yamen's cooperation, Hu Qin finished examining the authentic ledgers of the Red Cliff Road over the years, expressing a rare degree of satisfaction.
Unaccustomed to western Yuan's desert climate, their noses bled and their faces peeled after just a few days. Thus, with He Lingchuan's consent, Hu Qin and the other two commissioners set out ahead of the rest to return to Mount Rong.
Their mission was complete, so it was time to go back. Remaining at He Lingchuan's side were the fifteen Mount Rong disciples assigned to him by Elder Dao.
He Lingchuan hosted a farewell banquet for them, personally seeing them off at the East Gate the next day with every courtesy observed and generous red envelopes provided.
Hu Qin was not an easy man to get along with, but on this long journey, he had gotten along remarkably well with He Lingchuan. Before departing, he gave his word: if He Lingchuan ever needed assistance in the future, all he had to do was send a letter.
"With your word, Mr. Hu, my mind is at ease!" He Lingchuan was glad to foster good relations with someone like him.
After seeing off Hu Qin and his companions, He Lingchuan hesitated for a long while before leaving Qiu Hu and the others in the city and heading west alone.
His destination was White Pagoda Temple.
The temple was not large, with only four or five temple keepers residing there, yet incense burned briskly, and people came and went every few quarters of an hour.
He Lingchuan recalled that his original self had only visited two or three times, and on one occasion had even hunted a wild hare on the hill behind it.
He truly had never imagined that the original self's birth mother was buried here.
He Lingchuan had not originally wanted to come; after all, his original self's birth mother had nothing to do with a transmigrator like him. What was in the past was best left in the past.
Yet deep down, a voice faintly urged him to make the trip.
He knew this was the longing of the original self.
In any case, his business in Blackwater City was mostly done, so he had strolled over after all.
There were quite a few graves on the hill behind the temple.
Great Shaman Zhaomandu had once examined the area and declared that White Pagoda Mountain had excellent geomancy. With the venerable elder's endorsement, wealthy local families were eager to bury their deceased here, hoping it would bring blessings upon their descendants.
The graveyard was kept very clean, virtually free of weeds, clearly maintained by designated caretakers. Fresh flowers and fruit offerings rested before some of the headstones.
He Lingchuan searched stone by stone, and before long found a white stone tablet engraved with the name "Lu Xiaoyun."
This burial plot was in a prime spot. The headstone stood upright and square, its painted characters fresh, as if someone had touched them up not long ago.
Chapter 806