Chapter 7: First Arrival at the Manor (4)
From the founding of the various immortal sects to the present, spanning several thousand years, if one were to speak of which clan has slain the most demons, the Ling family undoubtedly leads far ahead, unrivaled and unmatched. The greatest contributor to this legacy is the Red Cloud Sword Formation.
This formation was created by the Yunhai War God before his ascension. Since then, it has been passed down through generations of the Ling family as a large-scale killing technique. Its power may not be the strongest, but its scale is unquestionably the widest. It is said that five hundred years ago, the Yunhai War God used this formation to annihilate the million-strong army of the Western Demon Lord. The formation requires three people to coordinate its casting. When activated, red clouds densely fill the sky, and within the triangle they form, sword energy pours down like rain—fierce and mighty enough to level mountains and rivers.
Certainly, this is far beyond the scope of a small place like the Plum Snow Villa.
“Are you mad? This is the cost of dozens of lives!” Jiang Xiaoman strode forward swiftly and slammed the table, causing the pills to spin chaotically.
Ling Sicheng, however, remained unusually calm, pinching the pill and gently placing it into another small white bottle.
“If we let the Ghost Sound go, it wouldn’t just be dozens,” he said.
Jiang Xiaoman was momentarily speechless.
She had never considered herself a person of lofty righteousness. In a world overrun by demons, with people being devoured daily, even the immortals of Penglai cannot save everyone—and she certainly could not. Besides, last night she had taken the demon pill and slipped away secretly—she had no right to stand up and condemn anyone.
Yet, in her mind flashed the image of Cen Lan playing the zither in the dwarf bamboo courtyard last night. Then the busy figures of the servants in the left courtyard. Finally, the kindly-faced steward and the dignified head of security.
“Whether the Ghost Sound remains in the villa is still unknown. Such behavior is no different from that of demons. You—” Before she could finish, Ling Sicheng grabbed her and covered her mouth.
“Shh,” he whispered.
Footsteps approached the door.
A shadow appeared as a maid announced, “The matriarch has gathered everyone in the main hall, waiting for the Divine Doctor Ling to come.”
“Understood,” Ling Sicheng replied.
...
The maid had gone far, but Ling Sicheng still held her tightly, showing no sign of releasing her. His face appeared thoughtful.
“Wuwu...” Jiang Xiaoman quickly pried his hand away, a lump rising in her chest, her cheeks puffing involuntarily.
Ling Sicheng released his grip and nonchalantly tidied the bottles on the table, packing them neatly into his bag slung over his shoulder. He gently removed his forehead wrap and straightened his clothes; just before leaving, he glanced back at Jiang Xiaoman.
“Instead of staying angry, why not help me find the demon sooner? Hmm?”
Jiang Xiaoman heard this and quietly did not argue. The interruption had calmed her somewhat.
At first, his words startled her. But upon reflection, the Ling family was known among the immortal sects for their ruthless and decisive methods. They would sacrifice their own lives and those of their disciples to exterminate demons, let alone the mortals of this villa.
Had she, after only a few days together, idealized this Second Young Master Ling too much?
She recalled what her senior brother often said: in demon-slaying, there must be no trace of mercy. Having long stayed indoors, her knowledge of demons came only from books, hearsay, and a few small demons captured at home—how could she understand the life-or-death struggle against great demons?
The best outcome would be to find the demon within these three days, so no one need die in vain.
Having resolved this, she hurried after him.
“Not angry anymore?”
“I’ve thought it through. What happens in three days will be dealt with then. But even so, I’ll still stop you.”
Ling Sicheng smiled without replying.
Jiang Xiaoman scratched her head. “By the way, have you ever heard of a man called Mr. Hundred Flowers?”
“No. Who is he?”
“You’ll meet him soon enough.”
*
Before reaching the main hall, voices of conversation and greetings could be heard from afar.
Upon closer approach, the hall was already packed with people. Beyond the doorway, the elderly matriarch of the Cen family sat at the center, with young members of the family seated to either side.
As two guests entered, the lively chatter ceased abruptly, and those present rose in unison.
Jiang Xiaoman immediately recognized Cen Lan.
She looked well in spirit but bore a trace of sorrow on her face. Her aura was less vibrant than last night, but still noticeably different from ordinary people—
Ling Sicheng had clearly noticed as well.
Yet his gaze lingered only briefly before sweeping past, as if finding nothing unusual.
Indeed, among countless mortals, some possess spiritual energy rivaling immortal cultivators. Just as some people are born with strong muscles but never practice martial arts—this was not strange. After all, innate talent is natural; whether it is utilized depends on nurture.
Standing opposite Cen Lan and beside the young master Cen Yuan was presumably Cen Qiu, the eldest daughter of the family.
Cen Qiu bore a strong resemblance to Cen Lan but was taller and thinner. She wore a golden jacket, and her smile lacked Cen Lan’s melancholy, instead exuding confidence. She did not seem as fiery-tempered as rumors suggested. Her aura was normal, and her spiritual energy was that of an ordinary person—apparently, the abundant spiritual energy was not hereditary.
Mr. Hundred Flowers was also present, still wearing half an iron mask, standing upright on the other side of Cen Yuan.
The kindly steward Zeng stood beside the matriarch, with several maids standing on the outer edge, ready.
Jiang Xiaoman quickly scanned everyone in the room.
Could the Ghost Sound be among them?
“The Divine Doctor Ling has arrived.”
In the main hall, the Cen family matriarch sat at the head seat, smiling faintly. Her silver hair was like snow, earrings of jade, wearing a precious jade hairpin carved like a blossoming flower, and a magnificent robe embroidered with golden chrysanthemums. Yet even such splendid attire could not conceal her haggard face—sunken eye sockets, weary expression, and thick medicinal ointments plastered across her cheeks and neck.
The matriarch introduced the eldest son-in-law and her two daughters to the visitors.
When she introduced Cen Lan, the “mute medicine maid” Jiang Xiaoman quietly stuck out her tongue at her. Cen Lan was momentarily startled, then covered her mouth and smiled softly, not revealing Jiang Xiaoman’s identity, treating it as a secret shared only between girls.
After the introductions, the matriarch kindly said, “The Divine Doctor is a noble from the imperial capital, traveling far here—it is not easy.”
She then turned to her family, “The Divine Doctor will stay in the villa for several days. If he needs anything, you must all do your utmost.”
“The matriarch is too kind,” Ling Sicheng nodded in thanks, his gaze casually sweeping over the iron-masked man beside Cen Yuan. “Who is this?”
The matriarch lightly touched her forehead. “Ah, how could I forget? This is Mr. Hundred Flowers of the Thousand Mechanism Pavilion, skilled in spells to dispel evil. Recently, there has been a heavy aura of misfortune in the house, so Yuan invited him to take a look.”
Cen Yuan nodded politely, admitting it was his idea.
The iron-masked gentleman smiled broadly and bowed, “I am Hundred Flowers. I arrived later than your esteemed self yesterday and have not yet met you. Hearing the matriarch’s praise of your extraordinary medical skills and your demeanor surpassing even martial heroes, I am deeply impressed.”
Ling Sicheng smiled in return, “What kind of charlatan is this? Not of the immortal sects, yet shamelessly claiming to dispel evil aura?”
Upon hearing this, Cen Yuan’s face darkened.
Jiang Xiaoman’s eyes widened. How could he be so blunt? This Second Young Master Ling had been acting gentle and courteous, but upon seeing Mr. Hundred Flowers, he seemed to have struck a nerve. Even though he himself was a pretender...
Though it was true the Ling family held the immortal way in the highest esteem, proud among the sects—it was their nature. Compared to her own father, who was considerate and gentle, and whose disciples bore no such barbs...
—It’s been centuries since anyone ascended; she wondered what point there was in such rigidness.
After Ling Sicheng’s words, the room fell into silence.
But Mr. Hundred Flowers appeared indifferent, lightly waving his folding fan with calm ease.
The matriarch’s expression shifted slightly; Jiang Xiaoman noticed and secretly nudged Ling Sicheng’s leg.
Noticing the tense atmosphere, Cen Lan parted her red lips gently, “So the Divine Doctor also has dealings with the immortals?”
Prompted by Jiang Xiaoman, Ling Sicheng paused briefly before answering, “Not often. I just think matters of dispelling evil aura are best left to the immortals.”
*
“The Divine Doctor need not trouble himself,” the matriarch replied indifferently, then instructed Steward Zeng, “Old Zeng, please take Mr. Hundred Flowers to inspect the guest quarters in the rear yard, and the room where Xing’er stays. If he has instructions, you must carry them out.”
Steward Zeng nodded in agreement.
Ling Sicheng said no more, and Jiang Xiaoman finally exhaled in relief.
*
After the crowd dispersed, the maids assisted the matriarch back to her chambers to rest.
Ling Sicheng brought Jiang Xiaoman, the medicine maid, along.
As the maids removed the ointments from her cheeks and neck, a shocking pattern of dark bruises covered her skin, with red marks left by the tearing off of the plasters.
“The Divine Doctor’s ointments are truly effective—cool and comfortable, no itching or pain. Far better than what previous doctors prescribed,” the matriarch praised. She waved the maids away, then slowly stretched out her wrinkled wrist from within her sleeve.
Ling Sicheng elegantly took a seat on a round stool beside the bed and began to pulse her wrist.
Jiang Xiaoman couldn’t help but worry for the matriarch.
“The matriarch is recovering well. I will strengthen the ointment and apply it for longer periods; this will temporarily suppress the patches. However, to cure this illness, continuous drinking of the White Dew Pill decoction for three days is necessary.”
“The Divine Doctor actually has a cure for this stubborn illness that has plagued me for eight years?” The matriarch was incredulous.
“Of course,” Ling Sicheng smiled, producing the small white bottle from that morning. “But the White Dew Pill decoction spoils quickly and must be freshly made. I brought the medicinal base; it takes four hours to brew.”
The matriarch examined the bottle carefully, beaming with joy, repeating, “Good, good.”
“We should not delay. Shall I have Bichun and Qingxia start brewing the medicine?”
“Please wait, matriarch,” Ling Sicheng interrupted. “This medicine’s preparation is very particular; the formula is obscure and difficult. Apart from my medicine maid, others may not be qualified.”
Jiang Xiaoman, who had been quietly dozing off, suddenly perked up.
Medicine maid? Was he referring to her?
What was he plotting?
“Very well, then have Xiaoman go brew the medicine immediately.”
“Please wait, matriarch.”
“What now?”
Ling Sicheng’s gaze was keen as he spoke calmly, “This medicine differs from common prescriptions; it requires a quiet place and the purest utensils for decoction. I heard the left courtyard’s pill room has a crystal cauldron, exquisite and immaculate. May my medicine maid use it to brew?”
The matriarch considered for a moment before replying slowly, “That is permissible.”
She then instructed the maid, “Bichun, take Xiaoman there and remove the seals.”
The maid named Bichun bowed in compliance.
Ling Sicheng looked back at Jiang Xiaoman and gave her a meaningful glance, shoving the small bottle and a yellow paper into her hands. “Follow this recipe and the medicinal base to the left courtyard to brew the medicine.”
Jiang Xiaoman was puzzled. Did he really think I was a medicine maid? How could I brew his complicated medicine?
Yet she dared not refuse, reluctantly accepting the items. After taking a few steps, she glanced back at Ling Sicheng, who gave her another signal.
She pouted but followed Bichun out of the room.