The next day arrived and passed in the blink of an eye at least for Tian Shen Ji. Evening came, and with it arrived a thin layer of mountain mist that clung to the Bitter Bamboo Market Town like a damp shroud.
Jin Sheng didn't believe in long goodbyes; to him, sentiment was just another form of wasted time. He led Tian Shen Ji back to the Hundred Fragrance Jade Spirit Pavilion. The shop was quieter than the previous day; most of the gamblers had already squandered away their hard-earned money and slunk back towards their homes.
Fu Jia was already there, his golden eyes squinting against the evening lights as he counted a small stack of spirit stones.
"You're late, Master Jin," Fu Jia noted, rubbing his fleshy hands together.
"He's all yours," Jin Sheng said, his voice uncaring. He didn't say much else, but his hand rested briefly on the hilt of his blade, a silent reminder of his earlier threat. "I expect to see him in one piece when I return."
"Master Jin, you have my word! He will be treated like... well, like an indispensable employee," Fu Jia chirped, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
Jin Sheng gave a short grunt, then he looked down at Tian Shen Ji one last time. He didn't offer a hug or a word of comfort. Instead, he simply adjusted the strap of the small bag the boy carried.
"Don't die," Jin Sheng said bluntly. "And don't let this fat bastard overwork you. I hope you will be a strong young man when I come to find you. Also, take this with you; I think you will appreciate it."
He handed the boy a simple, weathered scroll.
"I understand. Thank you for everything, and safe travels," Tian Shen Ji replied with a respectful bow.
With a sharp nod, Jin Sheng turned and walked away without a backward glance. He had a caravan to lead and money to make. Tian Shen Ji watched the man's cloak billow behind him until the mist swallowed his silhouette.
Fu Jia cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Right then. Da Zhu! Get over here and take the brat to his new residence."
Tian Shen Ji felt a strange, brief void where the older man's abrasive presence used to be, but he didn't dwell on it. He turned his attention to Fu Jia and the guard.
The massive guard lumbered forward, looking significantly less enthusiastic than he had the day before. He kept a respectful distance from Tian Shen Ji, his eyes darting toward the boy as if he were carrying a plague.
"Take the brat to the North District courtyard. Give him the keys and show him the perimeter. Then get back here; those crates from the Eagle Mountain gang won't count themselves."
"Yes, Master Fu," Da Zhu replied. He looked at Tian Shen Ji with a mix of pity and lingering jealousy. "Follow me, kid."
The walk to the North side of the Outer District took nearly an hour. As they moved further from the bustling center of the town, the air grew noticeably cooler and the buildings more dilapidated. The North side was built in a low-lying area where the sun struggled to reach.
Eventually, they stopped in front of a heavy wooden gate. The wood was grey with age and dampness, and the iron hinges were thick with rust. Above the gate, a small, tattered charm meant to ward off evil hung limp in the mist.
"Water Washing-Sin Residence," Tian Shen Ji read aloud, glancing at the plaque above the gate.
"Ha, what a name," he murmured.
"This is it," Da Zhu said, his voice dropping an octave.
"This is it," Da Zhu said, his voice dropping an octave. He fumbled with a heavy iron key, the metal screeching as it turned in the lock. As the gate swung open, it revealed a courtyard overgrown with pale, spindly weeds. The air inside felt noticeably colder, not the clean cold of the mountain, but a heavy, stagnant chill.
To a normal person, it was merely "gloomy." To Tian Shen Ji, it was a dense presence of Yin Qi.
"Listen," Da Zhu said, his voice dropping to a whisper and refusing to step over the threshold. "I don't care who your father is. Just... don't go poking around things you shouldn't. That house has a history. You wanted a place to stay; you got one."
Tian Shen Ji didn't respond, which only seemed to make Da Zhu more nervous. The boy walked into the center of the courtyard, his small boots crunching on dead leaves. He looked at the main house, a sturdy but grim structure with small windows that looked like squinting eyes.
"It's fine," Shen Ji said flatly.
Da Zhu scoffed. "Fine? The last guy who lived here was a third-layer Qi Refiner, and he ran out without even grabbing his bedroll. Before that, a merchant who bought it lost his entire shipment to bandits. And before that? The man who rented it out found his wife fell ill the very next day. It's cursed, I tell you. The old executioner took too many heads; the ground itself is cursed."
Tian Shen Ji didn't respond. He knew the truth was likely far more boring. People loved to find patterns in chaos. If a man loses his cargo, it's bad luck. If he loses it while living in an "executioner's house," it's a curse. It was the same kind of logic that led people to burn "witches" back in his old world, fear of the unknown disguised as a story.
"Whatever. Make sure you are at the Hundred Fragrance Jade Spirit Pavilion by eight sharp. Here's the key."
Da Zhu tossed the iron ring towards Tian Shen Ji and without waiting for a reply, the big man turned and hurried back toward the main road, leaving the five-year-old alone in the night he practically jogged away, his heavy footsteps echoing until they were swallowed by the silence of the North District.
Tian Shen Ji was finally alone.
He closed the gate. In the sudden silence, the courtyard felt different. He walked to the center and sat cross-legged on the cold stone. Moss covered the tiles, and the gnarled trees reached out like skeletal fingers against the grey sky.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The Yin energy was indeed stronger here, likely due to the house being built in a natural depression where the sun rarely hit the ground directly. For a normal mortal, this dampness would cause aches in the bones and a heavy heart. For a cultivator, if handled correctly, it was just another type of energy to be refined.
He looked at the small, sturdy house. It was quiet. It was private. Most importantly, it was far away from Fu Jia's prying eyes.
A haunted house, he thought, a small, cold smile touching his lips. Perfect. No one will bother me here.
He took another deep breath, feeling the heavy, cold air fill his lungs, and began his first true session of cultivation in the Bitter Bamboo Market Town.