Liu Zhuang Xian

Lu Xiaochan had lived for more than a decade, but it was the first time he walked into the Wusi Tavern.

The boss saw Lu Xiaochan and rushed over to chase him away, “Little beggar! Don’t beg in my tavern! You’ll disturb the guests!”

Jiang Wuchao directly tossed a silver ingot into the boss’s arms, “Today, I want to treat this little beggar to some wine! Is this enough or not?”

“Enough! Enough! Of course, it’s enough!” The boss bit the silver ingot and smiled so wide his eyes almost closed.

Jiang Wuchao specifically brought Lu Xiaochan to a seat by the window, a quiet spot where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

As soon as Lu Xiaochan sat down, he grabbed a handful of peanuts and shoved them into his mouth.

“Aiyo, finally, I have the chance to serve you for once!”

The waiter was about to pour tea for Jiang Wuchao and Lu Xiaochan, but Lu Xiaochan shook his head and said, “Just pour tea for Brother Jiang. I’m saving my stomach for the wine!”

The waiter laughed, “You, after all these years, why are you still so obsessed with our wine?”

Lu Xiaochan nodded towards Jiang Wuchao, “You see, I’m fixated on this, so there’s no hope for me in cultivating immortality!”

Jiang Wuchao laughed and personally poured a bowl of wine for Lu Xiaochan, “Hurry up and drink your wine! Tell me all the stories that old beggar told you!”

Lu Xiaochan downed a big bowl in one go and spiritedly recounted the stories told by the old beggar.

“Do you know what the other name for Wuyi Jingtian is?” Lu Xiaochan asked with a playful smile.

“Of course I know, Wuyi means no desire. So its other name is ‘Peak of No Desire’,” Jiang Wuchao replied. “All the evil spirits in the world feed on desire. Therefore, those who cultivate the true path strive for a clear mind and few desires to avoid being corrupted by evil spirits.”

Lu Xiaochan drank another big bowl of wine and continued, “Every sword master in Wuyi Jingtian, from birth to death, is said to never leave Wuyi Jingtian.”

“Do you know why?” Jiang Wuchao smiled and nodded his chin.

“Because apart from the sun, moon, stars, and Linglong Cold Jade, there are no other colors; apart from the branches and leaves of the immortal ‘Fengtian’, there is no other food, so naturally, there is no other taste. Since the Primordial Chaos, after each sword master in Wuyi Jingtian perishes, their residual sword intent lingers in the sky. Under the pressure of the sword force, aside from ‘Fengtian’ and the current sword master, there are no other living things. It is a place without color, without taste, without life, and without death, completely untouched by ***.”

“I understand now. It’s precisely because they are free from worldly desires that every sword master in Wuyi Jingtian can break through the ‘general trend’ realm and approach godhood.”

(TL: ‘大势’ actually translates to ‘general trend’=the general trend of development of things; the entire situation. Or it could be “great power/influence/force”)

Lu Xiaochan slapped his thigh, “Exactly! When the Dongxu Sword Sect was controlled by the ancient evil spirit Chaos, didn’t they charge up to Wuyi Jingtian? In the end, they were surely defeated by this desireless sword master!”

Lu Xiaochan vividly recounted the great battle between immortals and demons.

After drinking at least three or four jars of wine, Lu Xiaochan showed no signs of drunkenness. Apart from being helped to the restroom by the waiter, he didn’t even wobble while walking.

It seemed that the wine had indeed been diluted with water!

When he returned from the restroom, the boss had already had fresh, tender roast meat brought to their table.

“By the way, I still don’t know your name. I can’t keep calling you little beggar, little beggar.”

“Me? Just call me Lu Xiaochan!”

As soon as he finished speaking, Jiang Wuchao accidentally knocked over a jar of wine.

“Hey, hey, hey! What’s wrong with you?”

“You…what did you just say your name was?”

“Lu Xiaochan! The old beggar who adopted me found me under a big tree by the roadside. The tree was filled with the sound of cicadas, and I was crying out of hunger, making more noise than the cicadas. So, he called me Lu Xiaochan.”

(TL: ‘road’ ‘small’ ‘cicada’)

“You….do you know the name of Medical Sage Lord Liche?” Jiang Wuchao asked.

“Lord Liche? Isn’t it just Liche!” Lu Xiaochan replied with amusement.

“No, no, no! People only know his immortal title. ‘Li’ comes from ‘separation of life and death.’ ‘Che’ means ‘transparent.’ The immortal title Liche means to see through the separation of life and death. Lord Liche has been gone for over twelve hundred years, and there are few who still remember his name.”

“What was his name?”

“Lu Xiaochan.”

“I’m right here.”

“No, I mean the name of Lord Liche. It was Lu Xiaochan.”

“Huh?” Lu Xiaochan scratched his head. Could it be that he had some immortal fate, sharing a name with the Medical Sage?

“It must be the same sound but different characters, right?”

“That’s right… Your ‘chan’ is the cicada in the tree. In the Medical Sage’s name, it should be the ‘chan’ from ‘zen heart’.”

“Exactly. The Medical Sage wouldn’t use an insect as his name!” Lu Xiaochan pursed his lips and leaned towards Jiang Wuchao. “Besides, Lord Liche sacrificed himself, completely perishing in both body and spirit. While admirable, isn’t his name a bit unlucky?”

“You—” Jiang Wuchao nearly drew his sword at hearing Lu Xiaochan speak ill of Lord Liche. “How dare you say Lord Liche’s name is unlucky!”

“Calm down! The old beggar told me that Lord Liche perished miserably. The Sword Master Yang Cang in Wuyi Jingtian willingly spent six hundred years of his cultivation but couldn’t capture his Yuan Dan! So, his name is not to be taken lightly!”

(TL: Yuan Dan=in some novels, the Yuandan is hidden in the Dantian. The Dantian is equivalent to a house, and the Yuandan is the person living in the house.)

Lu Xiaochan spoke with utmost seriousness, but Jiang Wuchao fell into deep thought.

He felt it couldn’t be a mere coincidence.

The old beggar not only knew the Medical Sage’s story but also knew about the immortal-demon battle in Wuyi Jingtian.

Even the fact that Sword Master Yang Cang spent six hundred years of cultivation trying to capture Lord Liche’s Yuan Dan—how did the old beggar know this?

And by such coincidence, he named the little beggar he adopted “Lu Xiaochan.”

Could the old beggar be a hidden master? Was he present during the immortal-demon battle?

Behind them, wine jars were stacked like a small mountain. Lu Xiaochan was hugging a wine jar, drinking heartily.

Jiang Wuchao, resting his chin on his hand, looked at the little beggar across from him, lost in thought.

“Lu Xiaochan, I’ve cultivated for hundreds of years. It’s expected that this ordinary wine can’t get me drunk. But how is it that you, after drinking so much, show no sign of drunkenness?”

“This wine is just a bit tastier than plain water! How could it get anyone drunk?” Lu Xiaochan snorted lightly.

“Are you sure?” Jiang Wuchao glanced to the side.

There were three or five middle-aged men composing poems and drinking. They had only opened one jar of wine, yet half of them were already drunk.

How could this “Drunken Life, Dream Death” wine be just a bit tastier than plain water?

“Hey! Little beggar! Slow down! No one’s going to snatch it from you! Our wine has a strong aftereffect!” the waiter loudly reminded.

“What aftereffect? I think it’s just…”

Lu Xiaochan raised his hand but didn’t finish his sentence before there was a “thud,” and he collapsed onto the table.

Jiang Wuchao was stunned. Even though he reacted quickly, he couldn’t catch Lu Xiaochan’s head in time.

“Lu Xiaochan? Lu Xiaochan! Are you…drunk?”

Suddenly, the world spun, Lu Xiaochan’s heart tightened, and his soul felt like it was being forcefully pulled out of his body by an invisible force.

He reached out, flailing, as if he heard the sound of water rushing into his ears.

When he opened his eyes, he saw a slender and elegant figure approaching him under the cold, clear moonlight. The figure was so blurry that he couldn’t make out its features.

“Xiaochan, the story you told is both correct and incorrect.”

The voice was gentle yet restrained, as if enduring an irresistible erosion.

“What do you mean by ‘both correct and incorrect’?” Lu Xiaochan stood there, wanting to rush forward to see the person’s face clearly.

“Wuyi Jingtian is indeed colorless, tasteless, lifeless, and deathless, but it is not without desire.”

The voice seemed to whisper in his ear, yet it also sounded as if it came from an unreachable distance, carrying an elusive echo that resonated in his heart.

“What?”

“It’s precisely because there is nothing there that even the slightest bit of wanting becomes an overwhelming desire.”

Lu Xiaochan stood there, stunned.

“Don’t you remember?”

As the figure’s robe fluttered in the wind, Lu Xiaochan saw the boy again, sitting cross-legged, propping his head up on an icy, translucent desk.

“I want to go home! It’s so cold here! The desk is cold! The couch is cold! You are cold too!”

The boy’s angry expression looked like a puffed-up frog.

“So what isn’t cold?” The man on the other side of the desk asked casually.

Even though he couldn’t see the man’s face, Lu Xiaochan knew that the man in plain clothes, with his aura as clear as glass and silver mist, must be a rare beauty in the world.

“Yes, me! I am warm! If you don’t believe me, touch me and see! Am I the same temperature as this Linglong Cold Jade desk you have? Am I the same temperature as the books you read?”

The boy grabbed the man’s hand and pressed it against his cheek.

As if burned by lava, the man withdrew his hand.

“And everything here is so hard! You are hard too!”

“What isn’t hard?” The man asked indifferently.

The boy looked around, searching for a long time, before patting himself and saying, “Me! I’m soft!”

The man, as if he hadn’t heard, closed his eyes to rest.

The boy pulled his hand over, pressing one against the desk and the other against his cheek.

“Can you feel it? Your desk would crack if you gently tossed an egg on it! But I wouldn’t!”

As the boy spoke, his lips parted and closed. The man’s fingers brushed over his upper lip repeatedly, as if trying to understand something, pressing harder each time.

“You don’t have to pinch me to shut me up!” The boy frowned, about to turn his head away when his soft tongue brushed against the man’s fingertip.

The man acted as if he didn’t hear the boy’s complaints, slipping his fingers into the boy’s mouth, touching his tongue, gently stroking, sliding, and manipulating.

“What are you… Ah… stop, mmm, my tongue!”

The more the boy turned away, the more the man held his chin, making him look at him.

Until the boy’s round eyes welled up with tears, his brows furrowed tightly, and he clenched his fists as if using all his strength to bite down on the intruding fingers.

The man used a tiny bit of true energy, flicking open his upper palate.

The boy jumped up with a start, moving far away but still not forgetting to shout, “I’m telling you! If you don’t call the old liar to take me home, I’ll pester you every day until you lose your mind!”

“Do as you wish,” the man replied indifferently.

At night, the boy, half asleep and half awake, shivered and cursed softly, “That old liar! Tricked me into this godforsaken place where no bird poops, no chicken lays eggs, and no turtle comes ashore! And he doesn’t even give me a blanket! I’m freezing to death!”

In a haze, the man in plain clothes sat by his bed, his hand reaching over, first covering his head, then carefully touching his eyelashes.

“I’m so cold. Either give me ten blankets or get lost!” The boy sniffled.