Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Letter from Meng Guan
In the time that followed, the two gradually raised their cups and drank, leaving all worries behind, focusing solely on savoring the pleasures of food and drink.
This time, Lin Cong had not only successfully advanced to the middle stage of Qi Refinement, but had also received a warning from He Song, escaping a life-and-death crisis. His mood was particularly jubilant; as he drank, he showed not the slightest sign of regret for spending his spirit stones.
And because of this, after one cup of spirit wine after another, he soon became so intoxicated that he lost consciousness.
He Song, on the other hand, drank very little.
Although they were within the Immortal Pavilion, He Song remained vigilant at heart. When one’s cultivation was still at the lowest tier of the cultivation world, he had no desire to let drunkenness lead to disaster.
Despite the merriment, He Song was only slightly tipsy, far from drunk.
Fortunately, Lin Cong had already settled the bill beforehand. Seeing his companion unconscious, He Song naturally supported him back home.
He brought Lin Cong to his own house, then went out and returned to his own residence. As neighbors, He Song saved himself some time.
...
Time passed gently.
Days ebbed away.
Half a month later, on a morning, He Song received a messenger paper crane.
The handwriting on the crane belonged to Meng Guan.
“Fellow Daoist He, Meng has been at the Red Spirit Gold Mine for a month now. Today, I received thirty-five spirit stones as payment, which should be a cause for celebration; yet, the mine restricts entry and exit, so I cannot leave. I must use voice transmission to share the good news.”
“Thanks to Brother Wei, when Meng arrived at the mine, there were few people present. The mine steward, learning I was once an Immortal Pavilion cultivator, appointed me to lead a team of itinerant cultivators and supervise their mining. Thus, my monthly pay increased by five spirit stones.”
“Counting the days, today is the usual time for our gathering. Sadly, Meng cannot return—do not blame me, fellow Daoist.”
“When I am able to leave, I shall certainly apologize in person and toast three cups as punishment.”
“Meng Guan.”
He Song’s gaze swept over the lines of writing, and he stood in silence for a long while.
In the end, he carefully folded the paper and stored it safely in his meditation chamber.
Stepping out the door, He Song walked toward the spirit fields he managed, breathing a sigh of relief.
“To lead a team of itinerant cultivators means Meng Guan is not at the very bottom in the Red Spirit Gold Mine—at the least, he is a minor overseer.”
“In this way, his safety increases, and the chances of dying in the mine diminish greatly.”
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In his heart, thinking thus, He Song’s feelings about Meng Guan’s journey to the Red Spirit Gold Mine shifted.
Everyone has their own fate.
Take Meng Guan, for instance.
Originally, he merely wished to mine for spirit stones.
Yet, unexpectedly, upon entering the mine, he was promoted to a minor leader.
Thus, he narrowly avoided the dangers that await ordinary miners.
There might be other hazards within the veins, but as a leader, he naturally possesses greater means of survival than regular miners.
Moreover, Meng Guan’s cultivation was at the sixth stage of Qi Refinement, equipped with plenty of talismans and magical treasures—his chances of survival would be greatly improved.
Considering all this, Meng Guan’s journey to the Red Spirit Gold Mine could no longer be considered a near-certain death.
Dangerous, yes; but the possibility of survival had grown much.
Random thoughts flickered through his mind as He Song soon arrived at the spirit fields and began to cast the Spirit Rain Technique.
After half an hour, the Spirit Rain Technique was complete.
He Song then changed direction, heading toward the Spirit Construction Pavilion.
Today was the monthly gathering.
Though Meng Guan was absent and the original trio was now a duo, this tradition of several years was not something He Song would skip.
Spirit Construction Pavilion.
When He Song arrived, he found that Wei Fan had already been waiting for some time.
At that moment, Wei Fan held a sheet of paper, his gaze fixed upon it, his expression uncertain—neither joy nor sorrow.
“You also received Old Meng’s voice transmission?” Sitting beside Wei Fan, He Song asked casually.
Since Meng Guan sent him a voice transmission, he naturally wouldn’t forget Wei Fan.
He Song’s question was knowingly rhetorical.
“Yes, Old Meng said I helped him a great deal, and that when he returns he’ll treat me to a night of flowers and wine.” Hearing this, Wei Fan set down the paper with a smile.
Within their small circle, Meng Guan, though appearing elderly, was lively in spirit, and joked more than anyone else. Hearing Wei Fan say this, He Song was not surprised.
The fact that Meng Guan still had the mood to joke meant his current situation was probably decent.
He Song felt more at ease.
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As for nights of flowers and wine, such talk was mere jest, not to be taken seriously.
But if Meng Guan truly returned, he would surely thank Wei Fan properly.
“Enough, as long as he returns safely. Have you heard any other news about the Red Spirit Gold Mine lately?” He Song shook his head, not caring much about that matter, instead inquiring about news from the mines.
Wei Fan, being in the late stage of Qi Refinement, could acquire far more information in Bamboo Mountain Immortal Pavilion than He Song.
A cultivator at the late stage of Qi Refinement belonged to the very pinnacle of the pavilion—above him were only those stuck at the ninth stage, and a single Foundation Establishment master.
“No new information, but I have a feeling the mine isn’t as simple as we thought.” Wei Fan raised a teacup, sipping thoughtfully.
“By rights, for a vein yielding merely tens of thousands of spirit stones, such a mine should not require multiple Foundation Establishment masters to guard.”
“There may be secrets we do not know. I’ll keep an eye out, and if anything really happens, I’ll inform you at once.” Wei Fan finished, offering He Song a reassurance.
His intuition told him something was amiss in the mine.
But without concrete information, he dared not assert anything.
Should something happen, however, he would immediately send word to He Song.
Whether anything would happen, he could not be certain.
Beside him, He Song’s expression shifted at these words.
“Multiple Foundation Establishment masters guarding?”
The phrase flashed through his mind, and He Song’s vigilance heightened.
This was the same message he had heard before.
Supposedly, in the veins where the Red Spirit Gold Mine lay, several Foundation Establishment masters were stationed.
He had not taken it seriously, thinking it was mere rumor.
Foundation Establishment masters were not cabbages to be dispatched at will.
Even the Thick Earth Sect, a major sect with a Golden Core master, did not have many Foundation Establishment masters and could not send them out arbitrarily.
Yet, with Wei Fan confirming the rumor, alarm bells rang in He Song’s heart.
Considering the Red Spirit Gold Mine’s proximity, he felt a prickling unease, a cold shiver spreading through his body, his hair standing on end.
If trouble truly befell the mine, Bamboo Mountain Immortal Pavilion would soon be swept up in its wake.
When that time comes...
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