Chapter Five: The Sacred Tree

Phantom Spirit Cold Winds in July 2620 words 2026-04-11 07:29:10

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PS: The third update, seeking collections as a newcomer.

In front of the pavilion, the little servant’s words left Mo Bai stunned. Why hadn’t Mole told him that the county magistrate had passed away? Or perhaps Mole didn’t know about it at all?

Seeing Mo Bai lost in thought, the child spoke with a touch of sorrow, “My master was truly a pitiful man. First, he outlived his son, and then, unable to bear the pain of bereavement, he finally couldn’t hold on any longer.”

Mo Bai gently patted the boy’s shoulder and said, “Don’t grieve too much, little brother. The dead cannot return; please accept my condolences.”

The boy, as if finding a confidant, suddenly collapsed onto Mo Bai’s chest, sobbing bitterly. “Six days ago, Captain Xue came to visit my master. He left looking elated, even accidentally bumped into our big tree. Who could have known that as soon as my master died, everything would turn cold, and not a single person would come to offer condolences? Sir, you are the first to arrive.”

Mo Bai fell silent. No wonder Mole hadn’t known about this—perhaps no one at all knew of the magistrate’s death. He sighed, “Since I am the first to come, it’s only right that I offer incense to pay my respects.”

The child nodded eagerly, “I’ll prepare incense and candles immediately. Please, sir, come inside.”

Mo Bai finally followed the boy into the pavilion. Though it was called a pavilion, the magistrate had lived a simple life, so it was far from luxurious. Yet in the courtyard stood an unusual ancient tree, now stripped of all its leaves, its branches bare and trunk thick.

The little servant hurried out from one of the rooms, muttering to himself, “The wind is truly strong—it’s blown these Guniang leaves in here and they’ve fallen on the incense. It’s hard to get them off.” He shook his head helplessly.

Mo Bai’s eyes flashed with a cold light as he caught sight of the leaf, called a Guniang leaf, stuck to the incense in the boy’s hands. He stared at it intently.

The boy looked up, startled by Mo Bai’s sharp gaze and asked fearfully, “Sir, why are you looking at me like that?” Thinking, perhaps, that Mo Bai was staring at him.

Mo Bai smiled gently, “The leaf on the incense is quite curious. But if you can’t remove it, just let it burn with the incense. After all, it belongs to your household. Breaking the incense stick would be disrespectful to your late master.”

The boy gazed at the withered tree with deep sorrow and said, “Ah, it’s strange. The Guniang tree was once so full of life—visitors always said they felt invigorated just by seeing it. But ever since my master passed, the tree withered instantly and shed all its leaves. Could it be that the tree, too, felt the sorrow and chose to follow him?”

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Now Mo Bai understood why Mole had said people felt refreshed upon entering this place—it was because of the tree. Linglong Continent was full of marvelous plants, and the magistrate must have known of this tree’s virtues when he built his home here. “Little brother,” Mo Bai asked, “you say the leaves of the Guniang tree are special, that they stick to incense and are difficult to remove?”

The boy replied, “Yes, the Guniang leaves have a peculiar stickiness—once they touch skin or incense, they’re hard to get off. And they’re so light that one hardly notices even if they land on one’s face.”

Mo Bai’s heart stirred. “If I am to offer incense to your master, I should say a few words. But do you know what caused your master’s death?”

The boy’s face turned pale once more. “It was six days ago—a great event shook our town. Several women had already been violated by a lecher, causing widespread fear. My young master and Miss Xiao, the daughter of the cloth shop owner, had been childhood sweethearts. Fearing that the villain would target Miss Xiao, he went to her house to protect her. That very night, the fiend broke in. My young master tried to defend her, but he was powerless. The villain struck him in the chest with one blow, and he died with regret. My master was overwhelmed by grief and soon passed away from sorrow.” At this, he began to sob again.

Mo Bai offered a few words of comfort, then asked, “How do you know your young master was struck in the chest by the villain?”

The boy replied, “Miss Xiao told my master. My young master managed to tear off the villain’s mask, but couldn’t apprehend him. My master wanted to ask Miss Xiao what the villain looked like, but she was sometimes lucid and sometimes delirious. In her clear moments, she said the villain struck the young master in the chest.”

Seeing the boy so overcome with grief, Mo Bai dared not ask further. He helped the child into the main hall, which was simply arranged—clearly the work of the boy alone. Mo Bai lit the incense, bowed a few times, and considered his duty done. He noticed the boy had fallen asleep by his side, likely exhausted from days of worry, finally able to rest with someone to watch over the hall.

Mo Bai carried the boy to bed, looking at his childlike face that had weathered such turmoil. Perhaps the boy had no idea that he himself was a suspect; otherwise, he might have fought Mo Bai with all his might. Mo Bai left some silver for the boy’s future needs, then quietly withdrew.

Not far away, he spotted a young master approaching, looking in his direction. To his surprise, it was Wu Luohua. Their eyes met, and both smiled.

Mo Bai said, “Young Master Luohua, are you also here to visit the pavilion?”

Wu Luohua raised his chin slightly, “I heard there’s a spirit tree here that can invigorate one’s mind, so I came to see it for myself.”

Mo Bai replied with some melancholy, “I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

Wu Luohua was taken aback. “Why?”

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Mo Bai sighed, “The tree has withered, and its master has passed away.”

A look of desolation crossed Wu Luohua’s face, and he too sighed, “It’s said the Guniang tree was lush and vital—how could it wither so easily? What a pity. With the loss of its spiritual energy, it means nothing to me now.”

Mo Bai did not know what meaning Wu Luohua referred to, but sensed there was something unusual about this young master. Wu Luohua, seeing Mo Bai’s curious gaze, smiled wryly, “Forgive my lapse, Mo Bai. To be honest, as a scion of a spirit-cultivating family, I possess not a shred of spiritual power. It’s not that I seek fame by feigning weakness—it’s simply fate. My body is innately peculiar, unable to gather even a trace of spiritual energy, so I cannot cultivate. I heard of a spirit tree here and hoped to absorb some of its essence, but alas…” he chuckled self-deprecatingly.

Mo Bai, now understanding Luohua’s unique plight, was moved. “Then, Luohua, why not try physical cultivation instead? The path of cultivation is not limited to spiritual energy alone; there’s also the way of refining the body.”

Wu Luohua smiled, “Though physical cultivation is a path, I’m afraid I’m too lazy by nature to endure such hardship.”

Mo Bai laughed heartily, “But can you handle the hardship of eating Four Lakes fresh fish?”

Wu Luohua cupped his hands, “Thanks to you, Mo Bai, my sixth uncle is willing to prepare an extra fish for me. This glutton is well satisfied! Come to think of it, even without the spirit tree, my trip to Yun Jian is not in vain. My grandfather himself praises my sixth uncle’s fish, let alone the famed Four Lakes fish.”

Mo Bai gazed into the distance, “Looks like Sixth Uncle Wu will be plunging into the Four Lakes again.”

At that, both of them laughed aloud, and the gloom of the pavilion was swept away.