Chương 104: Book 2 Chapter 18: Inspector

Shen Jinglan had never served as an inspector of anything, unless one counted overseeing the princess's cosmetics, which should have told everyone everything they needed to know about her suitability for her current post. In short, she was not suitable at all. Yet the summons had come, and here she was. She set out into the city brimming with anger and resentment, which was at least familiar.

Having spent her entire life within the confines of the Imperial Palace, the very notion of leaving it made her physically ill. But needs must. She was a servant, and therefore bound to serve. It wasn't as though she could refuse, no matter how absurd the task. Worse still, the princess could not refuse either, though once, she would have possessed both the power and authority to do so. But dwelling on those days brought nothing but longing and bitterness, so Shen Jinglan forced the thought aside.

Instead, she wondered why this fresh humiliation had come at all. After the fall, many such indignities had been heaped upon the princess and her lone attendant by Prince Xiang Chengxuan, but they had tapered off years ago. Had he suddenly remembered his cousin and decided to torment her again, or was this merely coincidence? Shen Jinglan did not believe in coincidences, certainly not where that man was concerned. She had seen the court.

Prince Xiang Chengxuan was known as a master weaver of plots, arranging matters so that his enemies died by seemingly unconnected misfortune. Even the princess's father had fallen that way, during an inspection of the Great Wall, when the Yuan tribes had been gathering into yet another Great Horde- She shoved the thought back into the depths of her mind. The last thing she needed was to further sour her already fraying temper.

The carriage rattled faintly as it carried her through the sky above the capital, its wheels of fire leaving a burning trail in their wake. The noise spoke of poor craftsmanship, or extreme age. Either one was a quiet insult to someone in personal service to a member of the royal family. Shen Jinglan was used to such insults. She had stopped counting them long ago. Instead, she forced herself to focus on the sheaf of papers clutched in her hand. That, too, was an insult.

Only the lowest attendants or the most mundane strands of court correspondence still relied on paper and ink, despite their hallowed place in the Imperial Examination. For nearly all practical matters, jade slips and memory jades had long since replaced them, being simpler, faster, and far more convenient. Since this communication was neither, she swore under her breath as she spread the pages open and wrestled the dense characters into legible sense.

It wasn't that the task was particularly difficult, but resentment cared little for reason. She had been made to do something she despised, and so she would complain about every part of it, no matter how small.

"Kanchi Spirit Jade Mine," the document proclaimed, followed by its location, history, and importance to the court. Its ranking was Fan, as in "prosperous" or "busy." That might sound impressive, but the court classified its assets into only a few broad tiers: Chong (critical), Fan (prosperous), and Pi or Nan (troublesome or difficult). A Fan designation simply meant it was one among tens of thousands of similar sites in the capital: useful, but hardly noteworthy.

The report droned on: extraction quotas, taxation yields, and projected economic impact. There was even a brief note granting the mine's overseer access to excess jade, citing some curious interaction with their natal artifact. Shen Jinglan skimmed past it all, flipping to the end in search of what actually mattered: why an inspection had been ordered, and more importantly, why her. There was no chance this was random.

The personal attendant of Princess Xiang Muxue was not plucked from obscurity to handle routine assignments on a whim. Unfortunately, the answer proved underwhelming. The overseers had recently been replaced. A Nascent Soul elder had been reassigned, and the mine was now under the joint authority of two Core Formation cultivators. Shen Jinglan exhaled slowly, tension easing from her shoulders. Thank the heavens.

The thought of a mere Foundation Establishment cultivator like herself inspecting a site overseen by a Nascent Soul senior had been enough to leave her skin prickling with unease. The document continued: the two new overseers had recently passed the keju and received their postings as a reward for their performance. She paused, frowning as she considered that. Could they be connected to the prince? No… that made little sense. If Prince Xiang Chengxuan wished to elevate two cultivators, he would simply do so.

He would not resort to something so roundabout as assigning them to an obscure mine in a minor district and then sending her to inspect their work. He could have brought them directly to court, and who would have dared object? The current emperor was far too preoccupied with the venomous infighting among his officials, not to mention his endless pursuit of new concubines. And the Immortal Emperor? The thought was almost laughable. The great immortal rarely appeared. He intervened only in times of true crisis.

No, this was something else. What, she did not yet know, but something nonetheless. She sighed and leaned back against the carriage's worn cushion, letting its faint rattling fill the silence. The interior was plain wood: two narrow benches facing one another, each padded with cushions so thin and frayed they were scarcely worth the name. The only object of any real value was the window, its qi-enhanced glass offering a view of distant sights with startling clarity.

Through it, she could have watched the pedestrians far below, traced the lines of towering guard posts and watch offices, or oriented herself by the grand avenues that carved through the capital. She could have, but the curtains, threadbare as they were, remained tightly drawn, leaving the carriage dim and enclosed. It was the princess's habit, ever since the fall, to keep herself hidden from the world. After so many years at her side, Shen Jinglan had adopted the same instinct.

She pushed the thought aside and forced herself to focus. What do I want from this inspection? More precisely, what did she hope for? The answer was simple: Nothing. Let the inspection pass without incident. Let her leave as quietly as she arrived. Let her return to the princess's side, and let the entire affair fade into nothing more than a forgettable interruption. Not a trap, or a scheme, or another thread in one of the prince's unseen webs. She cared nothing for the mine, nor for the people entangled within it.

Let it all remain distant from her. Just this once… let the day pass cleanly. Outside, the carriage cut through the sky, its wheels spinning against a trail of brilliant red flame. Passing cultivators gave it a wide berth. Even worn and unremarkable as it was, the sigil of the Xiang Dynasty emblazoned on its side marked it as official, and that alone commanded respect. Unseen behind drawn curtains, Shen Jinglan felt none of it.

The carriage flew on, indifferent to the wary glances it drew and equally indifferent to the unease coiling in her chest, carrying her unerringly toward the Kanchi Spirit Jade Mine, and whatever waited for her there. ………………………………………………………… Mo Jian wished the damned inspector would just arrive already. No doubt it would be some pompous court official, perhaps a Nascent Soul cultivator who had lived for centuries and long since decided that punctuality was beneath anyone of sufficient age and stature.

In their minds, anyone not yet born during the era of their great-great-great-grandchildren scarcely deserved consideration. True, no exact time had been specified, but everyone knew that when a cultivator said they would arrive on the fourth day, they meant the morning of that day. It was now noon. The sun itself seemed eager to be done with things, racing across the sky while shadows stretched longer and the light began its slow retreat toward the west.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Mo Jian took that as a sign that even the heavens wanted this day to end. Though in honesty, the delay was not the true source of his irritation. That would be the stares. They had begun in the morning and had not stopped since. Yes, it was new. Yes, if their positions were reversed, he would have stared too. But by all the deities above, it was becoming unbearable.

It had started with Bai Ning, who had dropped the jade slip she was carrying the moment she saw him, staring with her mouth hanging open like a startled fish. That alone would have been bad enough, but then it had escalated. Su Lianhua had actually blushed – blushed – before hastily lowering her gaze and stammering out an apology.

He Jianyu had gone in the opposite direction entirely, looking at him with something approaching reverence, declaring that Mo Jian had "fully internalized the essence of life within the Jade Hall of Newfound Prosperity." That name, unfortunately, had stuck, and yes, Bai Ning had absolutely been the person responsible. Zhao Wenhai had been the most restrained of them all. He had said nothing, merely offering a discreet thumbs-up. That, somehow, had been the most unsettling reaction of all.

Where had he even learned that gesture? It felt far too… modern. Had Mo Jian used it unconsciously at some point? Had Zhao Wenhai simply picked it up and decided to run with it? Regardless, and regardless of whatever implication the man had intended, he had still been the only tactful one. Everyone else in the Kanchi mine had stared. Workers, guards (a new addition), outer disciples (which essentially meant Su Chen and Xiao Hua and some of their new friends whenever they came over); every last one of them.

Word had spread with frightening speed and impossible accuracy, to the point that Mo Jian was half-convinced an Immortal of Gossip was lurking somewhere among them. How else could the mortal families at the base of the mountain have learned so quickly? They had even come bearing offerings – actual offerings – to celebrate "Lord Mo Jian's Tuo Tai Huan Gu." It was an obscure term for bodily reformation, and he was honestly surprised the mortals even knew it.

He Jianyu, still in full explanatory mode (as Bai Ning remained too busy staring), had clarified that for them, it was more legend than fact, something passed down like folklore. Like Nu Da Shi Ba Bian, the story about a woman transforming into countless forms, or like the story of the ugly duckling becoming a beautiful black swan, to take inspiration from Earth.

That comparison had been delivered without the slightest hint of hesitation, clearly under the firm assumption that a Nascent Soul cultivator like Mo Jian would be above caring about something as trivial as appearance. Mo Jian, who had not known whether to laugh or cry, though he had leaned strongly toward crying, did, in fact, care. Just not enough to put effort into it. Usually.

However, that morning, when his Nascent Soul had finally settled and fused properly with his soul, and he had been presented with the rare opportunity to reshape his body permanently. He had taken it. True, he had examples suggesting that such a choice was far from common, though only the heavens knew why. Old Devil Fu, for instance, had likely never bothered… unless that face was the one he had chosen, in which case the implications were deeply unsettling.

Wei Shentong clearly hadn't, what with the hardened features and graying hair. Han Wenqing, too, seemed unlikely; while braiding one's hair and beard into a belt was certainly memorable, Mo Jian felt confident in declaring it a case of making the best of unfortunate circumstances rather than a deliberate aesthetic ideal. Ancestor Qing, on the other hand, almost certainly had: young, handsome, with that long, flowing hair that seemed to belong in a painting.

Perhaps taking inspiration from him had not been the wisest decision, but then again, the alternatives had been far worse. Besides, Mo Jian had not expected it to become such a spectacle. These days, he barely recognized himself in a mirror anyway. His journey to the capital had already changed his appearance; this was merely the logical continuation of that process, or so he had reasoned at the time, while shaping flesh and bone to his will. He was young now, or at least, young-looking.

The heavy cheeks, the soft, rounded form, the thinning hair; all of it was gone. In their place stood a lean, sharp-featured man in his early twenties, with a full head of dark hair, an aquiline nose, and the composed bearing of a refined scholar. He could praise his new appearance so shamelessly because it was, quite simply, exactly what he had intended. The only constraint he had set for himself was that he should still look like himself, just a younger, and admittedly more handsome, version.

He had expected some teasing from Bai Ning for being vain, but not this. The reactions were… unexpected. So here he was, desperately hoping that the damned inspector would hurry up so the attention could finally be diverted away from him. Was one measly body reformation really worth this much staring? Besides, it wasn't as if it were limited to him alone. True, a newly advanced Nascent Soul cultivator could undergo it naturally once, but pills for beautification and general cosmetic refinement existed.

They weren't even particularly rare or expensive. Mo Jian had met more than enough cultivators who made use of them, Madam Jinjing coming to mind as a recent example, to know that such transformations were hardly uncommon. So why was he the subject of such shock? Had he… had he really been that ugly before? Mo Jian was internally reassuring himself with some conviction that he absolutely had not, when Bai Ning stirred beside him.

Her gaze lifted to the sky, tracking a streak of red fire cutting toward the summit of the mine. She raised one hand and her voice carried easily across the open plaza.

"There! The inspector is arriving. Everyone, be ready." Everyone already was. Work had been halted for the day, and most of the workers were instead gathered in the open plaza before the Jade Hall, awaiting the distinguished guest from the Palace. They had been baking under the morning sun for nearly four hours. Mo Jian and Bai Ning stood at the gates of the Jade Hall, with the workers arrayed before them, led by He Jianyu and Zhao Wenhai.

Around the perimeter, forming a perfect square, stood a score of guards clad in armor and helms, each gripping a shining halberd. The guards were new, hired just yesterday to lend the mine a more polished appearance, and all of them were at Qi Condensation, with a rare few at Foundation Establishment. Mo Jian had personally dipped into his reserves of Bin Steel to forge their breastplates, helms, and halberds.

The equipment bore no unique magical properties, but it was still both exceptionally durable and easy to control telekinetically, after being refined in nascent flames. He suspected the weapons alone were worth more than a few years of wages the new guards could earn, especially given the ecstatic expressions on their faces when he had mentioned that, should they serve for a year without issue, the equipment would become theirs permanently.

It explained their enthusiasm, and the way they stood so rigidly, eyes shining, faces flushed with excitement. Hopefully, the inspector would mistake that look for pride in their work at the mine, though why anyone would be proud about that, Mo Jian didn't know. Either way, the time for thinking about that was over. The streak of fire overhead swelled and brightened, resolving into a wooden carriage with blazing wheels, descending along a ramp of shimmering crimson flame.

It was clearly a high-level artifact, though its worn frame hinted at long use. The carriage touched down lightly near the Jade Hall, bouncing once or twice before coming to rest. All eyes followed it in silence. Even the guards stiffened further, their spines as straight as refined Bin Steel. The door swung open. Mo Jian drew a steady breath, bracing himself as he slipped into what he hoped was his most charming, composed demeanor.

He reached back into memories of Earth; of office gatherings, polite laughter at terrible jokes, the careful dance of saying just enough and never too much. He could do this. He was a Nascent Soul cultivator now, equal to whoever had been sent. A woman stepped out of the carriage, utterly lacking the oppressive presence he had expected. Still, appearances could deceive. This was the cultivation world.

This young-looking woman, perhaps in her twenties, with fair skin, dark hair pinned neatly back, and a faint, poorly concealed frown, could very well be an ancient monster who had lived for centuries, her power vast and unfathomable. Mo Jian's spiritual sense swept over her, and then halted. Foundation Establishment. At the mid-stage. He checked again, blinking, only to find the same result. Beside him, Bai Ning blinked as well, equally taken aback. This was the inspector?

Fortunately, while the two of them stood silently reevaluating everything they thought they knew about the court, and, more importantly, the person who now held their future in her hands, He Jianyu stepped forward. He approached the woman and bowed. It was a shallow bow, but in the cultivation world, even that carried weight. A Core Formation cultivator lowering himself to a Foundation Establishment one was already an acknowledgment of her authority.

Without overwhelming cause, he would not kneel to someone weaker than himself.

"Greetings, Inspector of the Imperial Palace," he said evenly.

"I am He Jianyu, one of the supervisors of the Kanchi Mine under the esteemed overseers, Lord Mo Jian and Lady Bai Ning. Welcome to the mine." On cue, the assembled cultivators behind him parted cleanly, forming a corridor leading straight to the Jade Hall. At its far end stood Mo Jian and Bai Ning. As if guided by some unseen hand, a ray of sunlight broke through the clouds at that exact moment, striking the jade walls behind them.

The light hit the stone and scattered, refracting into a cascade of white, gold, indigo, and deep viridian that spilled outward in every direction like a painting mid-brushstroke, like the whole mountain had been waiting for precisely this instant to show itself at its best. The inspector's gaze traveled down the corridor. It climbed the steps.

It found the Jade Hall; vast, radiant, and almost absurdly picturesque, and at its center, framed in refracted light, a Nascent Soul cultivator whose stillness and bearing alone seemed to press faintly on the air around him. She stopped walking. The frown dissolved. Her lips parted. Her eyes went slightly wide, like a person who had stepped through a door expecting a kitten, only to stumble upon a tiger. Her mouth opened and closed. Then, it opened again.

Her throat worked soundlessly, as though her thoughts had tangled somewhere on the way out. Then, very quietly:"Eep?"