Translator: Dj22031
Editor: Dj22031
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Who was Qing Lan? A flying corpse, a high-level variety of zombie, the kind that could not be formed without forty or fifty years of refining essence and blood. In a typical sorcerer family, it could even be used as a family heirloom.
Who was Qing Lan’s master?
Nobody knew, nothing was clear, nothing was known.
Whether it had ever recognized a master, what the master’s name was, whether he was still alive, and where he was if he was alive, nobody knew.
Due to the special nature of zombies, they could not be simply defined as demons or magical objects; although they were loyal by nature, they did not necessarily recognize only one master from beginning to end. Occasionally, some extremely powerful zombies would passively terminate their blood contract before their master’s death, transferring to the master’s next generation or the generation after that of their clan, recognizing a new master, and thus slowly becoming a family heirloom of a sorcerer family.
In this process of constantly transferring blood contracts and passing them down from generation to generation, the zombie would come into contact with spiritual power… As the number of souls increased and the experiences gained became more numerous, the essence blood used to strengthen itself became increasingly diverse. Gradually, the zombie would thus break free from its initial “loyal puppet” state, slowly developing its own personality and thoughts. At the same time, its status would upgrade from tool to partner, companion, family member, and even elder of the clan, possessing a certain degree of decision-making power.
Qing Lan’s state however was awkward. He didn’t seem like an old zombie who had experienced too much, but he was also clearly not a wooden, obedient first-generation puppet. If one had to describe him, he seemed to be a rare product of a break in the blood pact transfer process. He was neither bound by the previous generation’s master nor inheriting from the next generation’s master. Fortunately, he had preserved his “life” and consciousness even with the blood pact broken. However, this consciousness was probably somewhat damaged, and an obsession to “find his master” had been inexplicably planted in his mind.
—The Demon Management Bureau and the Warlock Association of Xiangcheng tended to guess this way; however, Qing Lan himself was confused and unclear about the concept when mentioning “master,” and so far, they hadn’t been able to cooperate with the Demon Management Bureau to confirm his situation.
Now, more than ten years had passed since Qing Lan was taken in by the Demon Management Bureau, and the members of the Xiangcheng Demon Management Bureau had habitually used the phrase “then it’s better to accompany Qing Lan to find his master” as a joke, meaning that since it was impossible anyway, it was more interesting to kill time by accompanying Qing Lan to find his master.
And now, this task had inexplicably fallen to Old Dog Bai.
Bai Ju watched as Qing Lan stood in the courtyard, obediently drawing his sword and slashing. Qing Lan, caught in a vicious cycle, was getting a headache.
He did indeed possess cultivation techniques suitable for a zombie puppet to practice alone, and it took a lot of persuasion to convince Qing Lan. The seemingly reasonable arguments, like “becoming stronger makes it easier to find a master,” coming from Old Dog Bai’s mouth made him feel like he’d eaten his own conscience. The same method hadn’t bothered him when he tricked the falcon in Mengdu.
Recalling his conversation with Lei Wu, Bai Ju felt that the falcon needed a brain overhaul more than cultivation.
Lei Wu, initially wary and almost agitated, looked down at Bai Ju, his body slightly turned to the side: “You can really make me stronger?”
Bai Ju frowned, slightly offended: “Really.”
Lei Wu remained defiant: “What if you lied to me? What’s the price?”
Old Dog Bai found it amusing, remembering Xiao Yao’s earlier introduction, and casually said: “A roasted lamb leg?” He remembered this was a common food in Montauban.
As a result, Lei Wu’s attitude visibly softened and became more respectful: “You’re such a good person.”
Bai Ju: “…???” “
Then, following Bai Ju’s request, Lei Wu went hunting in the bay with Pan Chujiu. As a falconer, he had considerable hunting experience in the Mengdu Grassland, but this mission would likely involve fighting on the sea. Having Lei Wu as an aerial combatant would be a significant advantage, provided he could adapt to combat on the sea.
Pan Chujiu, who had witnessed Bai Ju and Xiao Yao’s activities on the sea, had some experience in this regard. The little spirit couldn’t do much, but it could recreate the scene’s memories for Lei Wu’s reference. So, now, only two Huang Daxian, who were cultivating by worshipping the moon, and Flying Corpse Qing Lan, who was diligently practicing his sword, remained in Bai Ju and Xiao Yao’s courtyard.
Xiao Yao was in his study coordinating with the people from various branches of the Demon Management Bureau, roughly summarizing the management progress on Bai Ju’s side; while Old Dog Bai watched the three little demons diligently cultivating for a while, and then placed the palm-sized figure he had made earlier in the courtyard. It stood guard at the door while he sat cross-legged on the living room sofa, closing his eyes and searching through his collection.
Like many powerful demons, Bai Ju naturally had his own little treasure trove, but his wealth had been scattered during past battles and periods of displacement. What remained now were the cultivation techniques stored in his mind.
In fact, this alone showed that Bai Ju’s mind was quite sharp, and his humanities skills weren’t the black hole he currently displayed. Perhaps he lacked understanding of modern language, or perhaps all his talent points were focused on cultivation; in any case, the depth of Bai Ju’s memory and understanding of cultivation techniques completely belied his failing grades in Chinese.
Having deeply experienced the dangers of possessing a treasure, Bai Ju had destroyed many precious rare cultivation manuals to save his life, but before destroying them, he consciously memorized them all.
This… Bai Ju had never explained this in detail to anyone, including Xiao Yao, who assumed he had hidden the cultivation techniques in some portable storage tool. Not to mention the sorcerers and demons who had tried to hunt him down for the techniques— it was only because Bai Ju was lucky enough to survive that these treasures were preserved. If Bai Ju had died then, his pursuers would have known what they had destroyed.
The Wild Mountain God Bai Ju was the living repository of cultivation techniques they were looking for.
Calming his mind, Bai Ju narrowed his eyes, clenched his fist, and a blank jade slip appeared in his palm.
His spiritual energy transformed into threads and sharp blades, drilling into the jade slip, carefully engraving the selected cultivation techniques into it, before carefully storing the jade slip away. His movements were swift; engraving the techniques he knew by heart was effortless, and two of them were even modified by him, making them more suitable for demons than for humans.
In just a few breaths, the jade slip in Bai Ju’s palm had been replaced. A dozen or so. After carving the useful ones, he’d pick out a few interesting fragments and a few useless, misleading techniques to carve as well, totaling over forty techniques. He’d then take them out all at once, and the five or six decent ones mixed in wouldn’t stand out so much.
Bai Ju finished carving the techniques, lowered his eyes, and pondered for a while before letting out a long sigh.
He wasn’t particularly cunning, and his Yao Yao had given him his full support, but others weren’t family and didn’t deserve his complete trust; therefore, some basic precautions were still necessary. After filtering the forty-odd techniques, although the number was quite staggering, half were useless, unorthodox, or incomplete, and a third were suitable for humans but not for demons. Even if he took them all out, it wouldn’t be too astonishing, just barely staying within the warning line for human sorcerers.
“Hopefully these things… won’t arouse too much greed.” Bai Ju stopped his movements and sighed almost imperceptibly.
He stood up and rubbed his temple, which was throbbing slightly.
Xiao Yao had placed his phone on the coffee table. Bai Ju noticed the indicator light on it was flashing, then guessing someone was looking for Xiao Yao, he picked up the phone and headed to the study.
He gently knocked on the half-open study door, paused, and then pushed it open.
Xiao Yao heard the knock but was speaking and didn’t answer. Noticing Bai Ju enter, he involuntarily curved his lips into a smile, turned his head, and nodded at Bai Ju.
There were three people on the other end of the video call: Director Deng from Beijing, Director Liu from Hunan, and Director Sang from Mengdu.
Bai Ju entered the study and walked to the computer desk. A quick glance at the screen gave him an idea; these people had sent their underlings, partly because they met the requirements, and partly because these people were close to Xiao Yao and therefore more trustworthy.
Having figured this out, Bai Ju didn’t deliberately avoid the camera’s view, since the camera could only capture his chest and below anyway. Standing behind Xiao Yao’s chair, Bai Ju handed him his phone, his voice slightly lowered: “There’s a message. I wonder who’s contacting you.”
“Hmm,” Xiao Yao replied, having just finished speaking. He took a sip of water, not taking the phone directly, but unlocking it with Bai Ju’s hand. As he opened WeChat, he casually remarked, “Don’t you know the password?”
Bai Ju’s palm steadily supported the phone, using it as a stand, while his other hand rested on the back of the chair, his chin propped up. His speech was slightly muffled: “I won’t try to see all your messages.”
He paused briefly, realizing the video call wasn’t off. Xiao Yao’s obvious attempt to get close felt like a declaration of ownership; so he added with a smile, “…I knew you would tell me.”
Director Deng on the other end of the screen hissed in pain.
“Aunt Deng, smoke less, eat less candy, remember to brush your teeth at night, and get your teeth cleaned regularly.” Xiao Yao didn’t intend to pay attention to Lemon Forest on the other side of the screen. Hearing Director Deng’s gasp, he smiled and teased without even looking up.
Director Deng leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, twirling the pen in her hand, and chuckled, “What, are you planning to treat me to wedding candy?”
Xiao Yao scrolled through WeChat, quickly looking at the messages accumulated in the Turtle Island barbecue group built by Qu Lang and Ling Yun, leaned back, and looked up at Bai Ju, saying, “Qu Lang wants to add you to the group, but he doesn’t have your WeChat.”
Bai Ju was stunned. Xiao Yao was the only person in his WeChat contacts. He had never considered building a social network through WeChat before.
Xiao Yao tapped the screen, recommending Qu Lang’s business card to Bai Ju, then patted Bai Ju’s hand: “Add him.”
Bai Ju was a little taken aback, blankly bending down to place Xiao Yao’s phone on his desk before reaching into his pocket for his own. He was about to… share a WeChat Moments with Xiao Yao?
The three branch chiefs on the other end of the screen, feeling completely ignored, cleared their throats in unison.
Director Meng Dusang, a tall and burly man, tapped the table with his hand, his face stern. After a moment of hesitation, he said, “…Could we also add Bai Wang on WeChat?”
Director Liu from Xiangcheng rubbed the top of his head, clumsily agreeing, “Hey, right, right, we’re missing a little friend to help us like our posts.”
Director Deng chuckled, biting her pen as if it were a cigarette, and said, “Add Auntie on WeChat, and Auntie will send you both a red envelope.”
The author has something to say:
Director Deng, Director Liu, Director Sang: Watching jg
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