27. When venturing out, always carry a disguise.

Not every dynasty is sheltered by a great sect, but without exception, those who manage to establish a dynasty are always connected in some way to the cultivation world. For instance, the grand Yao Dynasty near Mount Azure Cliff owed its founding emperor, Emperor Yao, to a prominent disciple within a cultivation sect.

The Zhou Dynasty, however, was rather unique, for its first emperor hailed from the Pure Yang Taiyi Palace. And unlike the founder of the Linwu Sect, who had only served as a menial laborer within the palace, the first emperor of Zhou was, by all accounts, a person of considerable standing even among the immortals of Pure Yang Taiyi Palace. Though it remained a mystery why someone of such celestial background would willingly descend into mortality and abandon the thousand-year blessings of Pure Yang Taiyi Palace, how could the Immortal Remote Prefecture turn a blind eye to the dynasty he left behind?

Because of this, not only Foundation Establishment cultivators but even formidable Golden Core adepts who could defy death itself dared not act with impunity within the Zhou Dynasty. Xiao Qingpei was not one to behave recklessly, yet he knew he needed a reasonable explanation for his presence here—especially as a disciple of Cloudsky Palace.

Soon after, at the earnest invitation of the local commandant, Xiao Qingpei accepted temporary lodging at his residence. Arriving at the commandant’s home, Xiao Qingpei discovered that his host was evidently not the sort to extort or abuse his power, for aside from the somewhat larger mansion, there were only an elderly cook and an aged, nearly incoherent doorkeeper in service.

Within the residence lived only the commandant’s wife, a son, and a daughter. Most of the household duties seemed to fall upon the lady herself, as evidenced by the many calluses on her hands.

“Might I ask the commandant’s name?” Xiao Qingpei found himself warming somewhat to his host.

“I dare not accept the title of general from a celestial master; you may simply call me Pei Yuan,” the commandant replied.

So Pei Yuan was his name. Xiao Qingpei nodded, about to request a map of the region, when voices rose from outside, and a scholarly young man, his face flushed with vitality, strode in energetically.

“I am Dong Tian, the magistrate of this county. Upon hearing of the celestial master’s arrival, I have come uninvited and beg forgiveness!” he announced.

“So you are the magistrate,” Xiao Qingpei replied, somewhat surprised. Most magistrates, in his experience, preferred to keep their distance from cultivators—a pattern he had noticed in the Yao Dynasty’s Jin County, where the local magistrate had been similarly cautious.

This was, in fact, why Xiao Qingpei had accompanied Pei Yuan in the first place.

“Your presence here is a great honor,” Magistrate Dong said earnestly. “To express my apologies for any inconvenience, I have brought out a family heirloom: a ginseng root of three hundred years. Please accept it, celestial master!”

He produced an exquisitely crafted box from his sleeve. As soon as it was opened, the rich aroma of ginseng filled the air.

“A three-hundred-year-old wild ginseng?” Xiao Qingpei was slightly taken aback. Though not a spiritual herb, such old ginseng was exceedingly rare due to short growing periods and constant harvesting—even a hundred-year root was a rarity, let alone one of three centuries. In any dynasty, it would be considered a minor national treasure.

It was important to note that the age of ginseng was measured not by its time in storage, but by how long it grew before being harvested.

“Magistrate Dong, you are too generous. I cannot accept such a gift without merit,” Xiao Qingpei declined politely.

Other cultivators would have been sorely tempted, as ginseng of this age could be traded for valuable elixirs. Its worth rivaled that of books for the immortal examinations, and for certain people, far exceeded it.

Though Xiao Qingpei was moved, his cultivation relied primarily on his innate gifts, and Magistrate Dong’s lavishness made him uneasy.

“This is merely a token of apology for the time you must spend here,” Magistrate Dong insisted.

But Xiao Qingpei remained firm. “It is but a short wait; my affairs are not urgent. There is no need for such gifts.”

“If that is so, I thank you for your understanding. Should you require anything—be it rare elixirs or medicines—please let me know. I will do my utmost to acquiesce,” Magistrate Dong pressed on.

Hearing this, Xiao Qingpei, who had not taken the magistrate seriously at first, became alert. He asked, “Forgive my boldness, but may I ask if your full name is Dong Jume?”

In the narrative of the first heroine, there was indeed a Magistrate Dong Jume—though mortal, his methods were uncanny and inscrutable. Whether Foundation Establishment or Golden Core cultivators, all submitted to him. Throughout the first heroine’s growth, she relied on his aid many times.

From Xiao Qingpei’s perspective, Dong Jume seemed specifically designed to facilitate the first heroine’s rise in the early and middle stages of her journey.

What impressed Xiao Qingpei most was Magistrate Dong’s oft-quoted phrase: “No one understands the art of governance better than I, Dong Jume!”

“Does the celestial master perhaps know me from before?” At Xiao Qingpei’s unexpected question, Magistrate Dong’s composed demeanor suddenly slipped.

It seemed this truly was the character from the story. Yet, still young, he was not yet the man who, a decade later, would remain unshaken even if Mount Tai collapsed before him—his emotions perfectly concealed, his mind unfathomable.

Xiao Qingpei was genuinely surprised to encounter such a pivotal figure from the first heroine’s tale in a randomly chosen county.

“A friend once told me of a Magistrate Dong in the Zhou Dynasty who was a master of governance,” Xiao Qingpei replied offhandedly.

At this, Dong Jume’s face lit up with delight.

“You flatter me, celestial master!”

Xiao Qingpei’s comment had struck a chord; combined with his status as a cultivator, it filled Dong Jume with unrestrained joy. After all, the same words carry different weight depending on who speaks them.

“If it is convenient, might I borrow a map of the region? I am searching for a particular place,” Xiao Qingpei continued.

“Of course!” Dong Jume agreed at once. Though such maps were strictly guarded—ordinary folk could be executed for possessing one—a Foundation Establishment cultivator had every right to request it. Refusing would be pointless; such a cultivator could simply survey the land from the clouds.

“I must ask, however, that you provide your sect and name for the record. It is customary; I hope you won’t mind,” Dong Jume added.

“Cloudsky Palace. Xu Jiansheng,” Xiao Qingpei replied with dignified composure.