Chapter Ninety-Five: The Ten Thousand Palace Pavilion

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The crowd watching was filled with cheers as Jiang Pingchuan effortlessly lifted the stone slab in front of the inn. Yet, when he put the stone down and turned away with a helpless expression, confusion spread among them. They could not understand why Jiang Pingchuan had looked so excited and joyful just before lifting the stone, only to appear embarrassed and ready to leave once he had actually lifted it.

“Young master, please wait!”

Just as Jiang Pingchuan was about to leave the crowd, a very old voice called out from behind him. It sounded as if the speaker had not spoken for a long time; the tone was stiff, and the words were somewhat unclear.

Jiang Pingchuan turned and saw an elderly man standing on the stone steps. The old man had white hair, a long beard reaching his chest, and a flushed complexion. Although advanced in years, he still looked vigorous.

“What is it?” Jiang Pingchuan asked, looking at the elder.

The old man appraised Jiang Pingchuan from head to toe. Those present knew clearly that this was Boss Wan, about to reward the young man before him. In their hearts, they felt a mix of unwillingness, envy, and jealousy. They hadn’t expected such a seemingly slight youth as Jiang Pingchuan to effortlessly lift such a heavy stone.

“May I ask, young master, what do you make of this stone?” Boss Wan’s lips, thin and dry, parted as he spoke. Jiang Pingchuan opened his palm, made a fist, and then looked at the stone on the ground.

“Lead stone. This stone weighs 1,343 jin. Including the handle, it should weigh 1,349 jin,” Jiang Pingchuan said.

As soon as the words left his mouth, murmurs broke out among the crowd. Some said Jiang Pingchuan was guessing, others claimed he was making it up, while some clicked their tongues in admiration. Boss Wan, upon hearing Jiang Pingchuan’s words, applauded loudly.

“Well done, well done! You’re correct. This stone weighs 1,349 jin. Young master, have you seen the notice at my door?” Boss Wan gestured to a waiter beside him, who nodded and hurried into the inn.

The crowd sighed in amazement. They never expected this young man to be so extraordinary—not only could he lift a stone weighing over a thousand jin with ease, but he could also accurately state its true weight after just one lift. Such ability was truly admirable. Jiang Pingchuan smiled shyly.

“I have already read the notice,” he said, eyes fixed on the sign behind Boss Wan. Had he not been penniless, he would never have attempted to lift this stone. He had planned to seek out the lord of Yang City, but it was getting late, and he doubted he would find the lord at this hour.

“Since you have read it, young master, why did you leave without claiming a reward after lifting the stone?” Boss Wan asked with a smiling gaze. Jiang Pingchuan frowned slightly. There was something strange here—he didn’t yet understand what—but he would investigate further in time.

“Everyone has read the notice, but only Pingchuan has seen what’s written on the bottom of the stone,” Jiang Pingchuan said, stepping forward to gently flip the stone over with a light kick. The crowd pressed forward to see the important message inscribed beneath the stone.

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“If the person who lifts this stone is named Jiang Pingchuan, no reward will be given.”

Everyone found this odd at first, but upon closer inspection of the inscription beneath the stone, it suddenly made sense. Although Jiang Pingchuan had not yet arrived in their Yang City, his deeds had already spread there. The entire city admired him, though none knew when they might see him in person. Some sighed in lament, complaining about his delayed arrival.

“That’s fair enough. If Jiang Pingchuan comes, surely lifting a ten-thousand-jin stone would be no problem for him...”

“Ten thousand jin? Jiang Pingchuan could probably lift a hundred thousand jin without breaking a sweat...”

“Pity he’s still coming from Dongzhou City. Not sure when we’ll get to witness his heroic bearing.”

“Dongzhou and Yang City are over a thousand miles apart; it’ll take days to arrive.”

The crowd engaged in lively chatter about Jiang Pingchuan. Meanwhile, the young man himself looked at Boss Wan, who squinted and smiled. Boss Wan cleared his throat twice and waved for silence.

“Everyone here has admired young master Jiang Pingchuan for a long time. But looking at the bottom of the stone and the young master’s actions just now, haven’t you noticed something?”

Boss Wan stepped down from the stone steps and stood before Jiang Pingchuan, extending his hand in invitation. Jiang Pingchuan stared at him, momentarily stunned.

“I am indeed Jiang Pingchuan. Since I claimed no reward and left, what do you mean by this?” Jiang Pingchuan asked, frowning.

Boss Wan chuckled and patted Jiang Pingchuan’s hand, glancing at the small sleeping fox nestled in his arms.

“Young master Jiang, your words flatter this old man. I set this stone as a mere test of luck, never expecting to meet you. Please, come inside and allow me to show my hospitality.”

Only then did the crowd realize the young man before them was truly Jiang Pingchuan. No wonder he lifted the stone and then put it down without claiming a reward; indeed, his reputation was well deserved.

“You’re too kind,” Jiang Pingchuan replied, cupping his hands in thanks and following Boss Wan into the inn. Passing the entrance, Jiang Pingchuan noticed the beads of prayer on Boss Wan’s right wrist.

He glanced up at the inn’s name: Wan Palace Pavilion. The character for “palace” brought to mind the furtive face of Old Master Gong. Jiang Pingchuan had not expected Old Master Gong’s connections in Yang City to be so extensive, revealing that he had made many good friends in his youth.

Upon entering Wan Palace Pavilion, Jiang Pingchuan realized it was more than a simple inn. The entire interior was subtly enveloped in a faint aura of true energy. Though thin, the energy created an overall sense of comfort. Jiang Pingchuan surveyed the layout and feng shui of the place—a habit of his whenever arriving somewhere new. Sometimes, a slight anomaly overlooked could bring unnecessary karmic troubles. Having absorbed too much karma, he feared the path to ascend to the heavens would become even more arduous.

“Young master Jiang, please stay here for now. If anything arises, we can discuss it tomorrow. You must be weary from your journey, so I shall not disturb you further,” Boss Wan said.

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Boss Wan called to the waiter descending from upstairs, who nodded and approached Jiang Pingchuan, guiding him to a guest room above.

Jiang Pingchuan turned to bow in thanks to Boss Wan before following the waiter. Upon entering the room, a faint scent of sandalwood greeted his nose. He had felt alert moments before, but after the waiter left and he bit into an apple on the table, drowsiness swiftly overcame him.

Staggering toward the bed, Jiang Pingchuan noticed the window was open. He wobbled over and placed his hands on the window frame to close it, but his expression suddenly froze.

Outside, the streets were deserted. A figure appeared in the distance, sweeping the ground with a broom. Jiang Pingchuan’s eyes widened as he looked closer—he was certain it was the old scholar from Sanjiang County.

Jiang Pingchuan watched as the old scholar swept the ground, but the broom never actually touched the earth. The scholar seemed to notice Jiang Pingchuan and smiled, greeting him. Jiang Pingchuan, still groggy, raised his hand and waved back.

“What are you sweeping?” Jiang Pingchuan asked softly. Though his voice was low, the old scholar, standing far away in the dark night, heard and stopped his movements.

“Sweeping away the lingering spirits,” the scholar replied shyly.

Jiang Pingchuan’s head buzzed as he looked at the old man, whose face twisted momentarily. “Isn’t that just the world’s dust?” he murmured, rubbing his temples gently.

The scholar’s face returned to normal, and he smiled, shaking his head at Jiang Pingchuan’s words. Jiang Pingchuan watched the old scholar’s retreating figure before turning to close the window and returning to bed, drifting into a hazy sleep. The small fox in his arms twitched its eyelids slightly, but Jiang Pingchuan was already lost in dreams.

The gates of Yang City had closed; the Yin City awakened. The only difference between these twin cities was that one was inhabited by the living, and the other by the dead—not merely ghosts, but governed by its own laws.

Originally, there was only one city, but someone proposed using ancient methods to awaken Yin soldiers and generals for battle. This greatly enhanced the capital’s defenses.

Jiang Pingchuan stood before a city gate, staring at the tightly shut doors. Outside, he heard cries of battle, curses, and wails. Gently, he pushed open the gate.

As it opened, a general on a tall steed charged in, wielding a massive saber, cutting down countless soldiers—these were the so-called Yin soldiers.

Jiang Pingchuan struck out with a palm, but it felt as if hitting empty air. The man, face twisted in rage, slashed at Jiang Pingchuan with his saber. Jiang Pingchuan clenched his fists but could not block the blow.

The saber passed cleanly through his chest. Touching his chest, Jiang Pingchuan found no injury at all. The man, now inside the city, continued his fierce attacks. Behind him surged a large host of Yin soldiers, charging into the city behind Jiang Pingchuan.

At that moment, Jiang Pingchuan felt an overwhelming wave of hatred and curses emanating from within the city, a force trying to tear him apart.