Chapter 37: Ge Nie of the Ghost Valley

After handing their horses to the attendant from the Bureau of Worthies, Zhou Qing and Zong Qiong walked into the Bureau alongside the rotund man. Crossing the threshold, they entered a spacious hall where men in standard Qin attire were either moving about or seated behind long tables, writing on bamboo slips.

"It is a true honor for our Qin Bureau of Worthies to receive two distinguished figures from the Taoist school. Pray, leave your names and marks, and I shall arrange your quarters. According to His Majesty’s decree, the selection for Palace Protectors and Sword Masters will not officially commence for another ten days."

"I am Bai Hai, a reception officer for the Bureau. Should you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask."

The man was not tall, barely five feet three inches; while he stood slightly above Zhou Qing, he was shorter than Zong Qiong. Leading the pair to a side hall, he approached a raised table and gestured toward a young man seated behind it, introducing them with a brisk efficiency and an amiable, harmless smile. As he spoke, his gaze lingered on Zong Qiong. In Bai Hai’s view, Zhou Qing appeared to be nothing more than a young Taoist disciple out to see the world. Though he held this private thought, his etiquette remained impeccable, daring not to be negligent.

"Junior Martial Uncle!"

Zong Qiong acknowledged the fat man with a slight nod, then stepped back to defer to his Junior Martial Uncle. Mundane rules were indeed tedious, but since they had arrived, there was no avoiding them.

"Xuan Qingzi of the Taoist Heavenly Sect."

Stepping forward, Zhou Qing glanced at the stunned, rotund man. A subtle aura of profound light pulsed around him as he addressed the young man behind the table. Given his current cultivation and reputation, he was more than entitled to the name Xuan Qingzi.

"This... the Heavenly Sect’s Xuan Qingzi!"

Bai Hai’s face froze. He realized with a start that he had misjudged them—and quite significantly. He had assumed they were from the Human Sect, never expecting the Heavenly Sect. Furthermore, he had expected the female disciple to be the candidate, yet he had overlooked the child beside her. Judging by his age, the boy could be no more than eight, yet the way they spoke suggested a high seniority.

"Wait, Xuan Qingzi? This name... why does it sound so familiar? 'Taoist Xuan Qing speaks of the Origin; Pangu opens the heavens, the Longhan Kalpa begins!' Could you truly be the Xuan Qingzi who penned such magnificent masterpieces as *The Creation of the World* and *The Longhan Kalpa*?"

This time, Bai Hai was utterly dumbfounded. This was his third misjudgment in as many minutes. For the past two years, these two stories had been the talk of the various states.

Though the tales sounded utterly fantastical, coming from a member of the Taoist school, they carried a different weight. As far as he knew, many of the old Qin citizens in Xianyang believed these events had truly transpired.

Centuries ago, the Taoist founder Laozi had merged with all things and vanished without a trace. Now, with these stories coinciding with his legend, who was to say that the masters of old hadn't ascended to godhood, achieving eternal life?

As the realization dawned, the young man recording the names shook so violently that his brush slipped, staining the bamboo slip with black ink. He stared at Zhou Qing, his eyes wide with profound disbelief. Was this child of eight truly the Xuan Qingzi whose name had spread across the lands?

"A bit of interest in the *Taoist Xuan Qing* verses, I see."

"You should replace this slip."

Zhou Qing could sense the reach of those two stories through his own constant accumulation of spiritual influence, but the extent of their popularity still exceeded his expectations. Seeing the young man still in a daze, he flicked his finger, sending a wisp of faint green light into the man’s body. He pointed to the ink-stained bamboo slip; while it could be scraped clean, he preferred a fresh one. After all, he was a man of status.

"Ah... my apologies! I shall record your name immediately!"

Those who worked in the Bureau of Worthies were well-trained in etiquette. Upon hearing Zhou Qing, the man scrambled to apologize, set aside the ruined slip, and produced a fresh one to record his name in Qin seal script.

"So it is indeed Master Xuan Qingzi. Please forgive my earlier rudeness. The Heavenly Sect is truly full of hidden talent. As you are of the same generation as Chi Songzi, I shall address you as Master Xuan Qing. Now that your name is recorded, please follow me."

Bai Hai had regained his composure. He marveled that the child before him was truly the legendary figure. In his mind, he had pictured a middle-aged sage—a man of profound wisdom like Zhuang Zhou, recounting the mysteries of the heavens. To see such a young boy write things even more fantastical than Zhuang Zhou’s works—even if they were mere stories—was truly intriguing.

"No need for haste. Another master has arrived at the Bureau."

Zhou Qing’s head tilted slightly. Seeing the fat man bowing again, he waved a hand, a gentle, invisible force lifting the man upright. Just as he was about to follow, his keen spiritual senses stirred. A faint light flickered in the depths of his bright eyes, and he paused, turning his gaze toward the entrance of the Bureau.

"A master?"

Bai Hai muttered to himself, stopping in his tracks. He turned his nimble frame to look toward the entrance. A young man walked in, appearing to be sixteen or seventeen, roughly Zong Qiong’s age.

He had handsome features, a subtle luster to his skin, clear eyes, and a steady, composed expression. He was tall, over five feet seven inches, dressed in functional attire with short, dark hair tied loosely behind him. A light blue sash was wrapped around his waist, and a dark blue cloak stirred with his stride. He carried a sheathed long sword and exuded a remarkably understated presence.

As he entered, an attendant led him to the registration desk, where he answered the clerk’s questions with simple, concise replies.

"Gai Nie of Ghost Valley!"

The four simple words left the young man’s lips. Instantly, the clerk recording the names was shaken, his expression shifting from shock to a strange, irrepressible excitement.

A descendant of Ghost Valley!

Even Bai Hai, standing nearby, changed his expression entirely. He bowed deeply toward Zhou Qing in apology before hurrying toward the newcomer. It had been decades since a descendant of Ghost Valley had appeared, and now, one had come to Qin.

This was no trivial matter; he had to attend to this personally. For hundreds of years, every generation of Ghost Valley disciples had emerged to a world thrown into blood and chaos. "When they are angry, the lords tremble; when they are at peace, the world rests"—this was the reputation forged by the strength of Ghost Valley disciples.