Chapter 37: Golan City

Having made up their minds to ignore the matter, the group of five departed from the small Taoist temple early the next morning. No matter how much Guang Ningzi pleaded with them to stay, they were resolute. Helpless, Guang Ningzi dared not force the disciples of Xuan Yuan Temple; after all, his humble temple stood right under the shadow of Xuan Yuan itself!

The journey that followed was uneventful. Seven days later, the five arrived at Golan City.

Golan City was situated in the west of Great Yan, guarding the Western Luo Highway and backed by Echoing Sands Mountain. It was the foremost city of the western region. There were two routes to the Western Luo Forest: one curved around the city, following the Western Luo Highway; the other cut straight through Golan City, entering the canyon behind Echoing Sands Mountain. They chose the latter.

Their reasoning was simple. Although the Western Luo Highway was flat, it wound and meandered, whereas the canyon behind Golan City led directly into the heart of the Western Luo Forest. With the whole world scrambling for materials, getting there ahead of others meant a better chance at the finest finds.

Ling Yu, however, had her own thoughts. The western regions were vast and sparsely populated. Golan City, being closest to the Western Luo Forest, was the market for many of its products. Who could say if some treasures might not be mixed in? Ordinary folks might not recognize them and simply cast them aside as if they were nothing special.

Her argument convinced the others, and the group resolved to stay in Golan City for two days, hoping to pick up any overlooked treasures before moving on.

The moment they entered the city, the five were immediately dazzled by the sights.

Backed by Echoing Sands Mountain, the architecture of Golan City was bold and open, a style reflected in its people as well. The locals were striking, with high cheekbones and deep-set eyes, exuding a vibrant enthusiasm. The men were tall and upright, the women slender and radiant. The women, in particular, wore gauzy, strapless dresses that revealed swathes of sun-kissed skin, their figures supple and alluring, exuding a wild beauty all their own.

Having spent years at Xuan Yuan Temple, Zhang Qingshu and his two companions were accustomed to the unadorned, modest ways of their sect’s female disciples. Even the beautiful ones took the gentle and demure path—they had never encountered such uninhibited charm. Some of the Golan women, noticing their handsome features, even threw flirtatious glances their way. The three young men were utterly entranced.

“Wow!” exclaimed Dantai Yu, letting out a low whistle. “What a marvelous place.”

“Indeed,” even the usually reticent Sheng Yangqiu grinned. “If only we weren’t in such a hurry, staying here a year or two wouldn’t be so bad.”

By contrast, the typically lively Zhang Qingshu felt embarrassed and awkwardly suggested, “Shall we find an inn first?”

Dantai Yu and Sheng Yangqiu exchanged mischievous smiles. “Little Brother Zhang, why so shy?”

“Exactly. There’s nothing shameful about men admiring women—it’s only natural.”

Flustered, Zhang Qingshu protested, “But the two junior sisters are here!”

Ling Yu glanced at him, serenely fanning herself. “I didn’t see a thing.” No sooner had she spoken than a beautiful Golan woman passed by and tossed a flirtatious gaze her way.

Ling Yu was momentarily petrified. Zhang Qingshu was dumbfounded, while Dantai Yu and Sheng Yangqiu burst into laughter; Yu Xiyin looked as though she wished to laugh but dared not.

Ling Yu quickly gathered herself and looked down. For ease of travel, she wore a man’s long robe over her clothes, her hair tied in a scholar’s knot—entirely in the style of a male disciple. Moreover, in recent years she had grown taller but not much else, and compared to Zhang Qingshu and the others, she stood at nearly the same height. She looked every inch a handsome youth—indeed, if her face was attractive for a woman, it was even more striking for a young man.

But even so, she was only seventeen. Next to the mature, seductive women of Golan, she was like a bean sprout. Why would anyone throw a flirtatious glance her way? Once, she had naively dreamed of being a man, but ever since entering the Dao and realizing women could be just as powerful as men, she had tossed that ridiculous notion aside.

Thinking more on it, being a man didn’t appeal much anyway—coarse pores, stubbly chins, even fair-faced Zhang Qingshu would grow hair on his legs… No, she’d rather remain somewhere between.

Feeling slightly disgruntled, Ling Yu said, “Let’s go—let’s find an inn first.”

Ignoring the snickering group, she picked an inn that looked clean and tidy and led the way inside.

The inns in Golan City matched the city’s character—spacious and bold, filled with light. The main hall had fifty or sixty tables, seating over a hundred people, most of them merchants with their goods.

Seeing them enter, the attendant hurried over to greet them. “Honored guests, this way, please!” His voice carried the distinctive accent of Golan.

After seating them at an empty table, he asked with a smile, “Judging by your attire, are you Taoist masters from the central lands?”

Zhang Qingshu nodded. “You have a sharp eye.”

Most of the great Taoist temples operated in Great Yan and rarely ventured to the remote frontiers. The resource-rich areas were assigned directly to their care. Thus, even in a major western city like Golan, few had ever seen cultivators in person.

The attendant beamed. “I’ve been lucky enough to see one or two before. It’s an honor to have immortals like you grace our humble inn—it truly brings glory to our establishment!” After a flurry of compliments, he finally asked, “May I ask, are you here for a meal or to stay?”

“Both,” replied Zhang Qingshu, tossing over a well-forged gold ingot. “Bring us your cleanest and lightest dishes, and prepare a private room for each of us.”

“Certainly! Please wait a moment.” The attendant hurried off and soon returned with a sumptuous spread.

It was said that cultivators of the highest refinement could live solely off spiritual energy, needing no mortal food—a state known as fasting. But such tales were only legends. For them, eating and drinking was still necessary. At the temple, their meals were infused with spiritual energy, making ordinary fare seem unpalatable. But since they traveled with only dry rations, they could hardly subsist on those alone.

The lavish meal did little to tempt them; they ate only a little before setting down their chopsticks. The wine, however—made from the finest grains, pure and clear—was quickly finished.

After the meal, just as they were about to retire to their rooms, someone approached Ling Yu, bowing deeply and hesitantly asking, “May I ask—are you Young Master Cheng?”

Ling Yu blinked. The man before her was about forty, with amiable features and a hint of a smile, sharp eyes, and though plainly dressed, his clothes were of fine material. He looked a bit gaunt and seemed somewhat drained.

He seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. “My surname is Cheng, and you are…?”

At this, the man’s face lit up with joy, and he bowed again. “It’s been many years, but Young Master Cheng has indeed entered Xuan Yuan Temple—what a delight! My surname is Qi. Years ago, I was honored to travel with you to Abyssal City. I wonder if you remember me?”

“Ah!” Ling Yu suddenly recalled. “You’re Master Qi?”

“You still remember me?” Master Qi’s smile broadened. “Such an honor! After we parted in Abyssal City, I never expected to meet again here in Golan. Truly, fate has brought us together…”