Chapter 28: Greetings, Senior Wuqing

“Hey, speaking of which, that little Zhou didn’t come to walk his bird today, did he?”

“Yeah, I noticed that too. I didn’t see Old Wu playing chess with him either. Maybe he found a girl to go on a date with?”

“Ah, the kid’s a decent guy, just not very motivated. It wouldn’t be bad if someone could inspire him a bit…”

Beneath the shade of the trees, a few elderly men chatted freely, their conversation sprinkled with the crisp crackle of discarded sunflower seed shells at their feet.

Older people always enjoy chewing over life, but for most, life is like poor-quality betel nuts—after a few chews, the flavor fades, and they have no choice but to spit it out and start on a fresh one.

The current betel nut, it seemed, was no exception. After a few idle remarks, their talk veered from Zhou’s romantic progress to Old Wang from next door’s amorous exploits. As they chatted, one of them suddenly looked up, his gaze fixed on the street.

“Hey… hey! Look over there—two unmarked cars just entered the neighborhood!”

“Unmarked?” The others immediately craned their necks.

“Where? Where?”

“Oh, I see it! They really are unmarked!”

“Are they here to pick someone up? Do we have any big shots living in this neighborhood?”

“No way. What kind of big shot would live in this rundown place…”

The group murmured among themselves like birds, eyes following the cars as they wound through the narrow streets of the complex, finally stopping beside an old red brick building.

The car doors opened, and Lü Zhenhai, accompanied by officials from the Sanitation Bureau, stepped out and looked around.

Before them stood an old-fashioned red brick building that seemed older than most of them. Iron security bars covered each window, clotheslines were strung outside, and the air conditioning units had yellowed with age.

According to their intelligence, this was the residence of “Zhou Wuqing”—now simply Zhou Qing.

The group entered through the unit’s door, stepping up the dust-scented stairs. Their footsteps echoed sharply in the dim hallway, mingling with their labored breathing.

They had learned from Qin Jiajia that Zhou Qing had permitted their visit, hence their approach. But the knowledge brought little comfort.

This was a being who had lived over 1,600 years, a war god who had personally witnessed the wars of the Northern and Southern Dynasties, a legendary ancestor of the Jiuli Sect.

These titles alone were explosive information, even in the files of the Sanitation Bureau. Despite being seasoned elites, everyone remained on high alert.

Their footsteps gradually softened until they stood before an old iron door.

The door was unlocked, but Lü Zhenhai still raised his hand politely to knock. After the third knock, a muffled voice came from within.

“Come in.”

The tone was drawn out, languid, as if the speaker had just gotten out of bed. Yet, to the ears of the Sanitation Bureau officials, it sent their hearts racing.

Lü Zhenhai exhaled deeply, exchanged glances with his companions as if sending a silent signal, then pushed open the iron door with force.

Sunlight flooded the room, the intense brightness causing everyone to squint. Amid the hazy glow, Lü Zhenhai was the first to make out a familiar sight.

The room was a simple one-bedroom apartment of about forty to fifty square meters, virtually devoid of decoration. The furniture consisted only of a tea table, a bed, a desk, a clothes rack with storage cabinets, and a gas stove—so spartan it was almost offensive.

In a corner, a young man reclined in a bamboo rocking chair by the window, bathed in sunlight streaming in. He held a thermos cup filled with tea, sipping while reading a newspaper.

Above him hung a bamboo birdcage. Inside, a thrush sensed the newcomers, fluffed its feathers, and burst into a clear, cheerful song.

“Congratulations and prosperity! Congratulations and prosperity!”

The sharp chirping echoed throughout the room, freezing the group in place.

Each was an elite officer, having encountered countless cultivators and mentally prepared for this meeting. Yet, the scene before them was unexpectedly mundane.

Was this perhaps too grounded?

As they pondered, the creaking of the rocking chair interrupted their thoughts. The young man closed his newspaper and lazily glanced toward the door.

Suddenly, all the surrounding noise seemed to dim. That casual glance alone froze every official in place. An invisible aura crashed over them like a tidal wave, making breathing difficult.

What level of cultivation was this?

The question crossed every mind, but none had the strength to dwell on it. Simply resisting the instinct to flee drained them.

The first to step forward was Lü Zhenhai, bracing himself against the pressure. Unable to meet Zhou Qing’s gaze, he bowed slightly in salute.

“Please forgive our sudden intrusion. On behalf of the Sanitation Bureau, I offer our sincere apologies.”

He spoke quietly, “We have come at the request of the Jiuli Sect. Hearing that you were once a friend to Jiuli, we bring an old relic as a token.”

Zhou Qing regarded them silently. Even without Lü Zhenhai’s words, he sensed something unusual: among the officers, most were cultivators at the Qi Refining or Foundation Establishment stages. Yet one stood out with a Golden Core aura, drawing attention.

His gaze passed Lü Zhenhai to rest on Jiang Ruifeng, dressed casually at his side.

Perhaps sensing this, Jiang stepped forward and held out an object with both hands.

“By order of the Jiuli Sect leader, I have come to return this sword to its rightful owner.”

This small gesture seemed to freeze the entire space. Everyone slowed their breath, all eyes fixed on the sword and the man presenting it.

Zhou Qing too studied the sword. After a thousand years, he recognized it at a glance.

By his reckoning, this was the second sword of his cultivation career.

The first had been a low-grade spiritual sword he carried when he began his path, so poor in quality it was only a temporary tool for beginners. It had shattered in battle, forcing him to seek a new weapon.

This took place during the chaotic era of the early Jin, amid the Five Barbarians’ invasions. Both the mortal and cultivation realms were in turmoil. As a wandering cultivator, he found no stable source for spiritual weapons and had to use whatever he could find. After centuries, this led him to master many forms of combat.

Later, entering the Northern and Southern Dynasties, when the cultivation world faced the Turmoil of the Peach Blossom Spring, the Jiuli Sect formally invited him in with great ceremony. Among their gifts was this high-quality spiritual sword. It felt just right in his hand and stayed with him for centuries—from joining Jiuli until he left.

At first, his relationship with Jiuli was purely transactional, but after centuries within the sect, a few people and memories had left faint traces on his heart.

Seeing the old sword now, those buried memories seemed to come alive, softening his expression.

Zhou Qing reached out, and the sword trembled slightly in response, as if silently summoned. It hummed softly, its spiritual runes glowing brightly. Under all eyes, the flames flickering along the blade suddenly surged, radiating intense heat.

The curtains by the wall were abruptly lifted by a gust of hot wind that spread through the room. The officials instinctively stepped back half a pace, squinting against the sudden warmth.

When they opened their eyes again, all movement had ceased. The once radiant sword had dimmed and was safely held in Zhou Qing’s hand.

Facing him, Jiang Ruifeng clenched his empty palm and bowed, his wrist trembling slightly.

“Jiang Ruifeng of the Jiuli Sect, pays respects to Senior Wuqing.”