Chapter Fifty-One: The Taoist of the Green Vine

Wang Zhenling was a soul transmigrant. Having crossed over to this world more than twenty years ago, he had long since assimilated into the local culture—at least, no one around him could discern anything amiss.

The Daoist before him introduced himself as Daoist Qingteng, claiming to cultivate in the Boundless Mountain, and said he was merely passing through on his way to handle some affairs.

Wang Zhenling seized the opportunity to inquire about the conditions in the Boundless Mountain, mentioning his original intention to go there for cultivation. However, he had come across a spiritual vein here by chance and decided to settle. He then asked about the safety within the Boundless Mountain.

The Daoist replied, “Boundless Mountain is one of the few great spiritual veins between heaven and earth—naturally, it’s superior to this place. However, though there is no mountain god governing and unifying the spiritual veins, making them scattered and fragmented, the mountain is now crowded with cultivators, and nearly all the good spiritual veins have already been claimed. Any latecomer would find no prime spots left.”

Wang Zhenling nodded slightly. These words matched much of what he’d previously gleaned from Elder Hu, so it seemed Daoist Qingteng was not fabricating stories.

Yet, Daoist Qingteng soon began to boast, saying he cultivated in Mist Valley, where the spiritual veins were excellent. He claimed to have considerable standing among the practitioners of Purple Scholar’s Valley, and assured Wang Zhenling that, if he wished to come, he would see to it that the many cultivators of Mist Valley would welcome him.

Though Wang Zhenling did not fully trust Daoist Qingteng’s promises, he nevertheless gleaned a great deal from his words.

“So, in this world, there are still no clear sects among cultivators. They merely gather into associations…”

In Boundless Mountain alone, there were already more than eighteen such associations. This alone demonstrated just how numerous the itinerant cultivators now were.

It also showed, from another angle, that Boundless Mountain was a land divided, full of factions and lacking any unifying power.

“If the cultivation world here is in such a primitive state, no wonder Zhen Yunzi is confident in opening vast sects here, perhaps even attaining Buddhahood or founding a lineage!”

While he was musing, Daoist Qingteng suddenly turned to ask Wang Zhenling, since he was cultivating in Danling County, whether he knew about the recent assassination attempt on the county magistrate Wang Guang, and how the authorities had responded.

At this question, Wang Zhenling was instantly on alert, though he feigned casual indifference and replied that he knew a little.

Daoist Qingteng pressed him repeatedly, showing great concern for the incident.

“Could this man be connected to the assassination attempt on the magistrate? Of course… he claims to be from Mist Valley—so that fits!”

If so, was he one of the assassins who had come for Wang Zhenling?

It was unlikely he was one of the two who had directly tried to kill Wang Zhenling last time.

Fortunately, Wang Zhenling was now in his spirit form, so the Daoist could not see through his true identity.

As mentioned before, when the authorities decided to act in earnest, their power was formidable. In just a few days, they had traced the origins of those who attempted to assassinate the magistrate and Wang Zhenling—they were from a place called Mist Valley in Boundless Mountain.

Mist Valley was a notorious gathering place for cultivators, shrouded in constant fog and miasma, nearly impenetrable to outsiders.

It was also rumored that the Mist Valley cultivators were connected with the Wuhua Society. The assassinations of Magistrate Wang Guang and Wang Zhenling were said to be linked to the society.

At this point, Wang Zhenling’s imagination ran wild. He wondered if all the Mist Valley practitioners were transmigrators as well. Otherwise, how could they be so brazen, daring to assassinate a county magistrate outright?

If they were native cultivators, they would know how grave the consequences were.

After all, although the Mist Valley assassins had already fled Danling County and gone back to their valley, the crime was so egregious that today they dared to strike at Magistrate Wang Guang; tomorrow, would they not go after the next county magistrate, and the day after, the provincial governor?

Such actions could not be tolerated—they struck at the very heart of the officialdom’s authority.

Moreover, Chen Bushi had come to Danling County precisely to keep an eye on Boundless Mountain.

Thus, as far as Wang Zhenling knew, the authorities had no intention of letting the matter rest. Plans were underway to attack Mist Valley, perhaps even to send troops into Boundless Mountain itself, to purge all the cultivators.

Observing closely, Wang Zhenling noticed that the so-called Daoist Qingteng carried a faintly chilling aura—not his own, but likely a result of his cultivation technique.

A thought struck him, and he became even more convinced that this man was a Mist Valley cultivator.

According to intelligence, Mist Valley practitioners did not follow orthodox methods but trained in sinister arts such as absorbing baleful energy and refining venomous insects.

He wondered, could it be that while these Mist Valley cultivators were transmigrators, they were not from any noble sect in their original world, but rather from evil sects?

The more he considered it, the more plausible it seemed.

With this in mind, Wang Zhenling began to probe Daoist Qingteng with pointed questions.

Though Daoist Qingteng was unfamiliar with this world, he was no fool. Realizing that Wang Zhenling had extracted a great deal of information from him, his expression darkened. He quickly excused himself, saying, “Until next time,” and left in haste.

“A pity… I doubt I’ll have such an opportunity again…”

Wang Zhenling had no doubt that once Daoist Qingteng made a few inquiries, he would discover Wang Zhenling’s true background. Then, he would hardly be so cordial in any future encounter.

Yet, was Wang Zhenling afraid?

He was an official, after all!

It is the thief who fears the magistrate, never the other way around.

Besides, he would soon leave this place and return to the county seat.

As an assistant officer, Wang Zhenling was now to take up his post at the county administration. Though he would no longer have the autonomy he once enjoyed as a patrol officer, his safety would be greatly enhanced.

Who would dare attempt an assassination on Wang Zhenling within the county offices?

However, it was precisely because of this that Wang Zhenling felt troubled; he could not remain at Blackwater Pool forever. After all, an official’s life was not his own.

He had already stayed here seven days; to linger any longer would be unseemly.

If his absence was brief, he could claim he was handling the aftermath of the eradication of the Blackwater cult in Dafen Township. But to tarry without cause would be unacceptable—even the county authorities might start to question him.

At this moment, Wang Zhenling was still unaware that the City God was planning to seize the spiritual vein. Yet now, the vein was of little use to him. He had already drawn upon its energy so heavily that it was depleted, and would need ten, perhaps several decades, to recover.