Unintended Immortality
Chapter 548: The Demeanor of an Envoy

Chapter 548: The Demeanor of an Envoy

This path was indeed frequently traveled by spirits and demons. The presence of yang energy had noticeably weakened, replaced by eerie yin energy, ghostly spiritual resonance, and demonic qi. Even the sunlight seemed dimmer, making it feel as though they had wandered into some phantom realm.

And this was still broad daylight, with the sun shining brightly.

If they were to remain here after nightfall—when the yin energy reached its peak—it was impossible to say just how terrifying the road would become.

If an ordinary traveler were deceived by demons and spirits into straying onto this path, they might fare well enough during the day. But if they failed to find shelter by nightfall, they would truly become helpless prey upon the demons’ chopping block.

Zhang Wangchuan glanced at the Daoist priest beside him.

Yet, the priest's expression remained calm and composed. With a bamboo staff in hand, he walked at a leisurely pace, showing not a trace of fear.

At his feet, the calico cat’s face had swollen so much it now resembled a pig’s head. Still, she insisted on walking along the ground, her tiny paws padding quickly as she kept close to the Daoist’s side. At the same time, she tilted her head and kept her eyes fixed warily on Zhang Wangchuan.

Zhang Wangchuan, ever composed, continued forward with one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

He moved with the demeanor of both a scholar and a warrior.

The golden rapeseed flowers, bathed in the setting sun’s glow, now took on a reddish hue. Even the oil-painted carriage beside them shimmered under the evening light.

Though the mountains ahead seemed near, the journey was far. The dirt path stretched almost perfectly straight through the vast sea of flowers. As they walked, the sky gradually darkened.

By the time they reached the mountain’s base, the sun had already dipped behind the peaks. Though it cast a final burst of golden light, painting half the sky in brilliant hues, it was merely the last struggle of daylight. The air here had already turned noticeably colder.

“The sun is setting. We can’t go any further,” Zhang Wangchuan declared as he stopped, still gripping his sword hilt. He surveyed the surroundings with sharp vigilance before continuing with certainty, “We’re now at the foot of the mountain, but compared to the other side, it’s much colder here. That means spirits and demons are certain to appear at night. If we want to stay safe, we must build a bonfire.”

He immediately ordered the two armed attendants to gather firewood.

The plains behind them were devoid of trees, but the mountain ahead had abundant vegetation, primarily a species of larch. Fallen branches and dried pinecones would serve as excellent fuel.

Only after giving his orders did Zhang Wangchuan turn to explain to Song You, “There are many spirits and demons in this area. Though rampant, most are minor creatures. Ordinary travelers may fall victim to their deception out of greed or carelessness, but for those with courage, skill, and a clear mind—who refuse to be easily tricked and come prepared—these spirits are more of a nuisance than a true danger.

“Creatures like these wouldn’t dare attack in broad daylight. They only emerge at night. However, as long as we keep a fire burning through the night and ensure it never goes out, the light and heat will keep them at bay. Along with taking turns to keep watch, this should be enough to ward off their disturbances.”

After hearing this, Song You simply smiled and nodded before commenting, “They cultivate the path of yin.”

Just that one sentence made Zhang Wangchuan feel a deep sense of respect.

Since ancient times, those who served as envoys for the imperial court had to be well-versed in astronomy and geography, possess a dignified appearance, and carry themselves with grace and composure so as not to disgrace the great empire.

Zhang Wangchuan had once read in an ancient text that spirits and demons cultivated by absorbing the essence of the sun and moon—the very forces of yin and yang. Among them, most favored nighttime cultivation under the moon, which was why folklore often told of certain animals bowing to the moon before or after attaining spiritual enlightenment.

At the time, he had been skeptical. It wasn't until years later that he confirmed the truth of these claims.

It was also then that he fully understood—during the day, the yang energy was strong, while at night, the yin energy prevailed. Thus, spirits and demons who practiced the path of yin were much more powerful at night and preferred to move under its cover. This was why so many spirits and demons were active after dark.

Yet this Daoist had summed it all up in just one sentence.

And judging by his expression, he remained as composed as ever.

By this time, the two armed attendants had gone together into the forest to collect firewood. The young civil official, acting almost like a servant, had secured the horses, unhitched the ones pulling the carriage, and was now cutting grass nearby while there was still daylight.

Strangely, the grass here was a darker shade of green, and for some reason, the three horses refused to eat it.

Only the Daoist’s jujube-red horse ate with great enthusiasm.

Even more amusing was the sight of the calico cat, her face now swollen like a steamed bun, one of her paws puffed up as well. Yet she still insisted on waddling into the forest to bring back pinecones.

By the time night fell, the group had settled into a sheltered spot, with enough firewood piled nearby to last the entire night.

Several of the pinecones had been collected by the cat.

One of the armed attendants stacked the wood into a pile and reached into his robes—only to freeze in place. He turned to Zhang Wangchuan with a troubled expression.

“The firestone is gone!”

“Useless!” Zhang Wangchuan sighed, his tone filled with exasperation.

The Daoist, however, simply chuckled. Without saying a word, he raised his bamboo staff and lightly tapped the firewood.

“Whoosh...”

Flames instantly erupted, setting the bonfire ablaze.

The group gathered around the fire, taking out their provisions to share.

Song You had brought roasted flatbread, while the calico cat had dried loach and dried mice. Zhang Wangchuan’s supplies were much more refined—soft, steamed buns, some dried meat, and even a jar of honey. Song You requested some honey to eat.

It was rapeseed honey, carrying the fragrance of the golden fields they had passed.

After finishing their meal, one of the military officer’s attendants went to sleep, likely preparing to take over the night watch later. The other attendant remained awake, tending to the fire.

The young civil official wasn’t idle either. He retrieved a booklet and a brush from the carriage, then sat by the firelight, flipping through the pages attentively. Occasionally, he made marks with his brush while murmuring to himself. Sometimes, he turned to Censor Zhang to ask quiet questions. From their discussion, it was clear that the booklet contained their findings from inspecting the stationed military officers in the area.

Were they respectful toward the emperor? How did they interact with the local foreign tribes? Were they involved in corruption or bribery?

Officials in these times had a tough life, especially those without strong backing or high ranks, like this young civil official.

Meanwhile, Censor Zhang casually chatted with Song You.

Throughout all this, a calico cat remained obediently by the Daoist’s side, facing the fire. Every now and then, it raised a paw to lick itself. Despite its comically swollen face—its once-round eyes now half-closed from the swelling—it didn’t seem to mind at all, simply watching the group with a lazy expression.

As the night deepened, the base of the mountain was shrouded in darkness.

The bonfire could only illuminate a small area. Beyond that, the mountains and forests lay in an eerie gloom, filled with shifting shadows. Distant howls echoed like ghosts wailing, while closer by, faint whispers stirred the air. It felt as if unseen demons and spirits lurked in the darkness, watching them, whispering about them.

Even the shadow cast by the jujube-red horse grazing nearby seemed deep enough to conceal countless monsters.

The murmuring voices in the darkness grew louder and clearer. It became evident—they weren’t just an illusion.

The spirits and ghosts had grown bold.

At times, a gust of wind swept through from afar. At times, an invisible hand reached out to untie the horses’ reins. At times, a hazy ghostly light flickered, revealing a face as delicate as peach blossoms.

An ordinary person would have been scared to death by now.

Even Censor Zhang was beginning to feel unsettled, though not out of fear. Instead, he abruptly stood up. With a sharp clang, he drew the treasured sword from his waist. Its blade gleamed like autumn water beneath the moon as he cast a cold gaze around him.

“I am Zhang Wangchuan, Imperial Censor of the Great Yan dynasty and Embroidered-Clad Lieutenant!” His voice was as heavy as a mountain, his presence unmatched. “Silence, all of you! Or I shall cut you down tonight and have the army burn this mountain to the ground tomorrow!”

For a moment, even the spirits and demons in the mountains were stunned.

The surroundings genuinely grew quieter.

Such was the presence of a Great Yan envoy—the sheer weight carried by the name Great Yan on this land.

A long silence followed before murmurs rose again. This time, the voices spoke in clumsy Great Yan dialect, mocking them. If their empire was truly so powerful, why did the mountains still hold the frozen corpses of forty thousand soldiers?

Censor Zhang’s fury erupted instantly. Without hesitation, he snatched a bow and arrow from the military attendant beside him. With a smooth motion, he nocked the arrow, drew the bow effortlessly, and loosed it toward the source of the voices.

“Whoosh!”

The white-feathered arrow vanished into the darkness.

A startled cry rang out, followed by the sound of frantic footsteps fleeing into the night. After that, the mountains fell into complete silence.

Even Song You couldn’t help but praise, “Censor Zhang, what an impressive display.”

“The Western Regions have always been chaotic.” Censor Zhang replied as he sat back down. “After traveling here for years, I’ve learned that you can’t reason with these petty demons and spirits. Only swift arrows and cold steel can put them in their place.”

About half an hour passed.

Suddenly, the wind picked up.

To be precise, the wind had always been present in the mountains. But now, it blew directly into their sheltered camp.

“Whooosh...”

The gust made the fire waver unsteadily, sending embers flying.

“...”

The military attendant tending the fire instantly became alert, turning his head toward the direction from which the wind came. The other attendant, who had been fast asleep, didn’t even need to be woken—his eyes snapped open, and he sat up immediately. Both instinctively reached for their bows and swords, ready for battle.

Their sharp reactions spoke volumes. These two were no ordinary guards but seasoned warriors, well-versed in combat.

It was no wonder they had been chosen to accompany the envoy beyond the borders.

One of the attendants picked up a wooden stick and used it to fish a red-hot pinecone from the fire. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it hurtling into the darkness.

“Thud...”

The pinecone flew through the air, scattering sparks along its path.

“Pop...”

“Rumble, rumble...”

The glowing red pinecone landed on the ground, its flames quickly rekindling. It continued rolling forward, leaving a trail of embers in its wake—until it illuminated a pair of thick, sturdy legs.

“Bang!”

A foot came down, crushing the pinecone underfoot, sending sparks flying.

A towering figure stepped into the firelight.

He was built like an iron tower, yet his face bore an oddly foolish expression, with a faint, vacant smile. Without saying a word, he walked forward and stopped within the glow of the flames, grinning dumbly at the group.

“Shing...”

One of the military attendants narrowed his eyes and slowly drew his sword.

The other nocked an arrow and pulled back the bowstring.

But Censor Zhang kept his gaze fixed on the stranger and gestured for them to stand down. Without hesitation, they sheathed their weapons, though their eyes remained locked on the man.

Even the swollen-faced calico cat was staring at him.

This was no ordinary person. He showed no fear of the fire, nor of the soldiers' weapons. He simply stood there, grinning at them, neither speaking nor making a move. Then, as if deciding something, he plopped down onto the ground about one zhang from the fire, like he had just come to listen to their conversation.

“What are you?” Censor Zhang Yushi asked, his voice calm and steady.

“Hehehe...”

The man did not respond. Instead, he just kept giggling. Then, without warning, he turned onto his side, facing them, and acted as if he were about to sleep.