Chapter 133: Business, Wugu-er

With a creak, the temple door gently opened, and the little demon with ox-like horns quietly slipped out.

Before the demon’s departure, several small demons carrying baskets and staffs came to see him off, offering provisions, thick coats, and weapons.

One demon patted his chest and said, “Rest assured, our Ancestor is in deep meditation and can’t attend to business; it falls upon us to manage things for him.”

The few demons sending him off looked worried. “The Ancestor has already warned us. That young Taoist is quite cunning. We must wait until his two-year vigil at the well is over before making any moves.”

“That Ancestor, now that he has the Dragon Son’s favor, seems to have forgotten us descendants,” the demon said, glaring with his ox-like eyes at the others sending him off. “Don’t use the Ancestor to pressure me. Once things are settled, you won’t miss out on the benefits.”

With that, the little demon swiftly descended the peak.

From a stone block outside the temple, several invisible and shadowless figures flew out, closely trailing the little demon as he headed down Cold Spine Peak.

Outside the meditation chamber, before the main hall, invisible presences sat quietly within murals, stood among Buddha statues, or lay beneath the stone tiles.

They served as someone’s eyes, ears, even nose—listening, watching, and sensing.

Ji Ming sat cross-legged inside a stone niche, like an old monk in deep ascetic practice. Smiling, he chanted softly, “In the still void, all secrets are heard.”

On the other side of the meditation room, the toad demon brought a tray of rare pearl shells, a jar of aged wine, two boxes of date cakes, some cooked beef, and half a roasted chicken.

As he set them down, Ji Ming touched the wine jar—it was still warm, having just been heated, perfect for the cold underground.

Ji Ming did not rejoice—not from lack of appetite, but from admiration for the meticulous care behind the toad demon’s offerings. Truly, the devil is in the details.

The one behind this clearly intended to corrupt him, and so all temptations—wealth, lust, wine, and flesh—were presented in turn.

Ji Ming did not drink the wine, only sampling a few date cakes. Then, carrying the meat and wine, he approached the well’s mouth and tossed the jar of aged wine down into it.

The chilling wind from below pushed the jar back up.

Many imprisoned sinners and demons clinging to the walls scrambled to seize the jar, yet it invariably landed beside the monk Hui Jin, steady and secure.

“Qi energy!”

Those with keen insight and experience recognized the Taiping Mountain magic controlling the jar.

Without hesitation, Hui Jin seized the still-warm jar and gulped it down in one draught; he also gratefully accepted the beef and roasted chicken sent down.

Once he finished eating and drinking, the monk’s clarity returned.

After delivering the food and wine, Ji Ming did not ask any questions but turned to leave. Hui Jin did not call after him, merely pressing his body against the wall, looking dazed and vacant.

“Go,” Ji Ming said, patting the toad demon’s shoulder before returning to the stone niche.

“Such a pity,” the toad demon whispered softly, glancing down the well before quietly withdrawing.

“A miscalculation,” he muttered as he walked away.

He increasingly felt that this young Taoist was no ordinary figure. That calm and commanding presence made him unconsciously submit, even stirring a willing desire to be driven by him.

Such a feeling had never even appeared in the Dragon Son Xiao Qiu.

After all, the Dragon Son was spirited and quick-tempered, stirring storms with his anger, never practicing self-cultivation or calming his aura, unaware that such stability could inspire loyalty in those around him.

Inside the meditation chamber, after hearing the toad demon’s report, the yaksha was uncertain as well.

They had been dispatched from the True Dragon’s aquatic domain, carefully selected—not ordinary demons—and understood the subtleties of human hearts.

The yaksha sat cross-legged and said, “No rush. Let that ox-demon test the waters first.”

Outside the chamber, invisible void warriors silently departed, swiftly vanishing into the void before flying toward the well, whispering constantly at the stone niche.

Several days after the toad demon’s departure, a little demon hurried over.

This demon had a simple, honest appearance, clad in a sheepskin short coat with its horns slicked with grease, looking like he had just received a windfall.

He hurriedly called to Ji Ming, “Bad news! Under the peak, a group of strong men are preparing to storm the well. Please, Master Immortal, hurry down to take a look.”

Ji Ming scrutinized the little demon from head to toe, causing the demon’s heart to chill and contemplate retreat.

“If the Master Immortal chooses not to act, it’s no matter. I will go inform the Ancestor.”

“Don’t be hasty,” Ji Ming said, grabbing the little demon and smiling. “Wait and watch my clever method.”

Pointing outside the temple in the distance, the little demon looked along the line of his finger to see a group of people being silently carried by invisible forces, all thrown down before the little demon’s feet.

“Well?” Ji Ming asked, patting the little demon’s ox-like head.

The little demon’s eyes bulged; his body trembled and he rolled on the ground, transforming into a water buffalo, mooing plaintively.

“Master Immortal’s method is peerless, penetrating a thousand miles. We truly had no intention to deceive. It’s just... just...”

“Just hiding your dealings from your Ancestor,” Ji Ming finished.

“You know everything!”

“I also know you have a plow and a whip in your room. At midnight, you often wear the plow and whip yourself, plowing the field inside your chamber!”

“All right, all right,” the water buffalo begged for mercy. “If this gets out, I’ll lose face among the other buffalo descendants in the temple.”

Ji Ming flicked the plum branch resting on his shoulder. The colorful group was brought before him, each firmly subdued and pressed into the snow with a single swift move.

“I’m here just to deliver fasting pills to the master imprisoned in the well. I have no intention of storming it.”

“Buffalo Son, Buffalo Son, we already gave you a large sum in talisman money. Why did you forcibly bring us here?”

“Yes, your buffalo son takes money but does nothing.”

The group was clever enough to shift blame and began arguing at the well’s mouth. Ji Ming waved his hand, and the void warriors escorted them back down the peak.

The buffalo son’s mind was in chaos, as if he’d lost his ability to think.

He now felt some secret scheme. This young Taoist, no, this young immortal, could see through everything, causing him to abandon thought altogether.

“Master Immortal, I only meant to distract you for a while and deliver some food and pills for sustenance. I have no other ill intent.”

Ji Ming stood by the vast well’s mouth, before six South Dipper spirit monuments.

He could clearly feel the buffalo son’s reverence, as if to a deity, and the fear of many sinners and demons below, all avoiding his gaze.

Turning clouds over and rain beneath, calm and unhurried, impervious to all evil—that was the rhythm he sought in cultivation and life.

Yet Ji Ming knew that his current control of the rhythm owed partly to the void warriors’ surveillance and partly to the plum branch that gave him the confidence to withdraw at any moment.

“Come. Let’s discuss the business in this well.”

The buffalo son lowered his head and bowed. “We simply help connect those below—relatives, masters and disciples, friends—so they may meet, bringing some filling pills and food. We collect a fee for our service.”

“No wonder the underworld winds rage so fiercely, and the walls are packed standing with them.”

The buffalo son was about to argue further when the young immortal raised two fingers.

“Two choices.”

“Speak.”

“Pay me a sum of talisman money at once, and I’ll pretend I saw nothing.”

“How much?”

“Not interested in the second choice?”

The buffalo son wiped sweat from his brow and whispered, “The second means you want to join the business and take a fixed cut.”

Ji Ming studied the little buffalo for a moment and praised, “You have the bearing of a great demon!”

“How much talisman money do you want?”

The buffalo son hurriedly asked, nervous. Since the young immortal knew about their illicit dealings, he must know the stakes involved, though not how deep the lion’s mouth was.

“You decide.”

“One thousand talisman money.”

“Hmph!”

Ji Ming snorted with dissatisfaction.

“Three thousand.”

Another snort.

“Eight thousand.”

This time, a startled cough.

Mount Jixie was indeed a famed peak. Beneath the Well of Sealed Evil, such a lucrative business was hidden—Ji Ming even felt tempted to join.

“Master Immortal, young lord, eight thousand is the accumulated savings of us buffalo descendants over decades. We offer it now, hoping you’ll be generous and preserve this business to pass on to our descendants.”

“Ten thousand.”

Ji Ming raised a finger.

“All right.”

“You—”

The buffalo son was so decisive that Ji Ming suspected he had asked for too little.

“I have a small condition. Please grant me a name.”

“Hahaha—”

Ji Ming smiled, flicked the plum branch three times on the buffalo son’s back, and said, “The ‘Gu’ means ox. From now on, you shall be called Wu Gu’er.”