Hmm… since his soul had returned, would his considerable cultivation base of the previous life also return? Mo Ran recited an incantation, feeling his spiritual energy surge through his body. Although it was abundant, it wasn’t strong. That was to say, his cultivation base hadn’t carried over.

     But it didn’t matter. He was a quick study, blessed with innate talent. At most, he only had to cultivate all over again from the beginning. It was no problem. Besides, rebirth was already an occasion of incomparable joy; it was reasonable that there would be a few small flaws. Thinking as such, Mo Ran quickly readjusted his dark expression and fangs, making himself appear like an ordinary fifteen-year-old, before cheerfully heading back to the sect.

     It was the middle of summer. Every once in a while, horse-drawn carriages passed by, wheels rolling. No one paid any attention to the fifteen-year-old Mo Ran. Only the occasional village woman would notice this exceptionally handsome young man and stare for a moment as they looked up to wipe their sweat while taking a break from tending the fields. Mo Ran also smiled and unabashedly returned their glances until those married women blushed and lowered their heads.

     In the evening, Mo Ran arrived at Wuchang Town. This town wasn’t far from Sisheng Peak, the towering peaks in the distance framed by clouds that looked as if they were lit on fire by the blood-red setting sun. He put a hand over his stomach, feeling a little hungry, and made his way towards a familiar restaurant.

     After glancing at the red and black menu boards in front of the counter, he tapped the counter and ordered promptly, “Shopkeeper, I’ll have one serving of chicken, one plate of sliced beef in chili sauce, two catties of wine, and another plate of sliced beef.”

     There were many people taking a rest stop here at this moment, and the establishment was bustling with activity. There was a storyteller on stage, waving a fan as he ardently told stories about Sisheng Peak.

     Mo Ran requested a private booth by the window and listened to the stories as he ate.

     “As we all know, the cultivation world is divided into two parts, the upper cultivation world and the lower cultivation world. Today, we’ll talk about the most remarkable sect in the lower cultivation world, Sisheng Peak. Heh, you should know that a hundred years ago our Wuchang Town used to be a poor and desolate, impoverished little town due to its proximity to the entrance of the ghost realm. No one dared to go out after dark. And if they really needed to travel at night, they had to ring an exorcism bell and sprinkle incense ash and paper money while shouting, ‘Humans barred by mountains, demons barred by paper,’ as they passed through quickly. But now, our town is lively and flourishing, no different from any other town, and this is all thanks to the care of Sisheng Peak. This righteous sect stands right at the entrance of the gate to the ghost realm, between the worlds of the yin and yang. Even though the sect was only established not that long ago, it…”

     Mo Ran had heard this story so many times that his ears were about to grow calluses. He lost interest and began looking out the window in a daze. It just so happened that right then, a few foreigners dressed as Daoists set up a stall below, carrying a cage covered with black cloth as they did street tricks.

     This was much more interesting than an old man’s storytelling.

     Mo Ran’s attention was drawn to them.

     “Take a look—take a look. These are the cubs of the fierce ancient pixiu beast, which we have managed to tame. Now they are as obedient as small children and can even perform tricks and do math! It’s not easy to achieve chivalrous actions; everyone, please spare us some tips if you have the money, and if not, please come support us with your presence. Come and watch the first trick—pixiu abacus!”

     Those “Daoists” lifted the black cloth to reveal a few demonic beasts locked in the cage, each one with the face of a human and the body of a bear.

     Mo Ran: “…”

     Just these meek, furry bear cubs?? And they actually dared to call these pixiu??? This claim was so outrageous that only those with donkey brains could believe it.

     But not long after, Mo Ran faced quite the eye-opener as some twenty to thirty donkey brains gathered to watch the show, cheering and clapping from time to time. The bustle even attracted the attention of the people in the restaurant, who couldn’t help but stick their heads out to watch—to the utmost embarrassment of the storyteller.

     “The current Sect Leader of Sisheng Peak is a man known far and wide for his outstanding martial skill—”

     “Nice!!! Another!”

     The storyteller was greatly encouraged and looked towards the sound of the voice. He saw that the customer’s face was flushed red with excitement, but it was obvious that his gaze wasn’t directed at the storyteller but at the stall performance below.

     “Oh, a pixiu using an abacus?”

     “Wow! That’s so impressive!”

     “That’s great! Wonderful! Perform pixiu juggling apples again!”

     The entire restaurant was full of laughter, everyone gathering by the window panes to watch the show below as the storyteller still carried on pitifully, “The sect leader is best known for that fan of his. He—”

     “Ahahaha, the pixiu with the lightest fur wants to eat the apples. Look at it rolling around on the ground!”

     The storyteller wiped his face with a towel, his lips trembling with anger.

     Mo Ran pursed his lips and smiled before calling out indolently from behind the beaded curtain, “Forget talking about Sisheng Peak. Tell a story from ‘Eighteen Touches’ instead, and you’ll pull everyone’s attention back for sure.”

     Not knowing that the one behind the curtain was none other than Young Master Mo Ran of Sisheng Peak, the storyteller stammered insistently for the sake of decorum, “Vu-vulgar words are… are not fit for display in a hall of elegance.”

     Mo Ran laughed. “You call this a hall of elegance? How can you not be embarrassed?”

     After he spoke, there was suddenly a commotion below.

     “Aiya! What a fast horse!”

     “It must be a cultivator from Sisheng Peak!”

     Amidst the chatter, a black horse came galloping from the direction of Sisheng Peak, charging towards the street performers like lightning!

     Two people sat upon the horse; one wore a black bamboo hat, tightly shrouded in a black cape, making it impossible to tell their age or gender, and the other was a woman in her thirties or forties with clumsy movements and a weathered appearance.

     When the woman saw those human bears, she burst into tears. She scrambled off the horse, staggering over, and embraced one of the human bears, then kneeled down and wailed, “Son!!! Oh, my son—”

     The surrounding people were dumbfounded. Some scratched their heads and muttered, “Huh? Isn’t this an ancient pixiu cub? Why is this woman calling it her son?”

     “Could this be a pixiu mother?”

     “Aiyo, so powerful. This female has even cultivated a human form.” The villagers didn’t know better and spouted all kinds of nonsense, but Mo Ran instantly figured out what was going on.

     Rumor had it that some shady rogue cultivators would abduct children and pull out their tongues so they couldn’t speak, then scald the children’s skin off with boiling water and stick animal skins on their bloodied bodies. After the blood congealed, the fur fused to the children, making them look no different from demonic beasts. These children couldn’t speak or write and had no choice but to suffer the abuse and obediently perform tricks like “pixiu abacus.” Any resistance would only be followed by a round of beatings with sticks.

     No wonder he hadn’t sensed a single trace of demonic energy earlier. These “pixiu” weren’t beasts at all but living people…

     While he was still thinking to himself, the black-cloaked figure said something to the Daoists in a low voice. Upon hearing it, they became furious at once and shouted:

     “Apologize? This grandfather doesn’t even know how to write the word!”

     “So what if you’re from Sisheng Peak?!”

     “Mind your own business! Beat him up!”

     And they pounced on the black-cloaked person for a beating.

     “Aiyo.” Seeing a fellow disciple get beat up, Mo Ran only laughed softly. “So fierce.”

     He didn’t have the slightest intention of helping. In his previous life, he really hated the righteous and meddlesome ways of his own sect. Whenever something wasn’t right, they rushed forth like idiots one by one, even going to help when Auntie Wang’s kitten couldn’t climb down from a tree. From the sect leader to a random disciple, every one of them was stupid.

     There was so much injustice in the world, so what was the point of bothering with it all? It was enough to tire one to death.

     “They’re fighting, they’re fighting! Ah! What a punch!”

     People all over the restaurant gathered to watch.

     “So many people ganging up on one person. How shameless!”

     “Xianjun, watch out behind you! Aiya! That was close! Wah, wah, wah—”

     “Nice dodge!”

     These people loved watching a good fight, but Mo Ran didn’t care to watch. He had seen far too many bloody battles, so the happenings under his nose were like a fly buzzing around him. He lazily brushed peanut crumbs off his clothes and stood up to leave.

     When he got downstairs, those Daoists were evenly matched with the black-cloaked person, their swords whistling through the air. Mo Ran crossed his arms, leaning against the door of the restaurant. With just one glance at them, he couldn’t help but click his tongue in annoyance.

     What a disgrace.

     Each of the cultivators of Sisheng Peak were brave, fierce fighters who could face at least ten men on their own, but this black-cloaked person was a pathetic combatant. He’d already been pulled off his horse by those Daoists, who then surrounded him and began kicking him, but he still held back from using any force.

     Instead, this person called out passively, “Gentlemen speak with their words, not their fists. I’m talking to you civilly, so why won’t you listen?!”

     Daoists: “…”

     Mo Ran: “…”

     The Daoists thought, What the hell? This person’s been beaten into this sorry state, and he’s still saying things like “gentlemen speak with their words, not their fists?” Is his head a steamed bun with no filling inside at all?

     But Mo Ran’s expression changed abruptly, and his mind was sent whirling for a moment. He held his breath, eyes wide with disbelief. That voice…

     “Shi Mei!” Mo Ran called out and rushed to him.

     His palm filled with spiritual energy and struck out, instantly pushing all five of those shady Daoists away! He knelt on the ground and helped the black-cloaked person, who was covered in muddy boot marks, to his feet, his voice shaking slightly.

     “Shi Mei, is that you?”