Even before Chen Ping'an descended from the mountains, he already sensed the sweeping transformations reshaping the small town. From the summit of Dizhen Mountain, he saw dust clouds swirling in every direction. Near Yuanmu Peak, nearly a hundred robust young men—mostly former kiln workers known for their strength and endurance—were fervently felling massive trees. Approaching, Chen Ping'an recognized a familiar face from the same kiln and learned that the town was ambitiously erecting four grand edifices at once: the county government office, the Wenchang Pavilion, the Martial Saint Temple, and the City God Temple. The project was led by a youthful new overseer named Wu Yuan. As for the county magistrate's exact rank and the nature of the county seat, the townsfolk remained oblivious and indifferent. They only knew that a stable, lucrative government position had emerged, offering wages far more generous than the modest earnings from firing the dragon kiln.
In the past, when the kiln work ceased and the fires died out, the young laborers spent their days tilling soil with little to show for it. Barely able to support their families, earning a handful of copper coins was a struggle. Now, with the town's spirits lifted, Wu Yuan was venerated as a veritable god of wealth. The established wealthy clans, who rarely ventured out, regarded the young official with remarkable respect and spoke with an unusual closeness that hinted at a bond between government and commoners. Their furtive, ingratiating glances did not escape the keen eyes of the townsfolk, who, despite their humble station, were far from naive.
Under Magistrate Wu Yuan's direction, the patriarchs of the four prominent clans hired five to six hundred able-bodied young men to harvest timber from the mountains, hauling the massive trunks down with great effort. A slide was even carved into Yuanmu Peak to expedite this labor; enormous beams destined for pillars could now glide down the slope unaided, though the scar on the mountain's face was a visible reminder of human intervention. Alongside logging, many town men labored by the creek, carrying sand and stone to the eastern city gate where the county seat was being established. Zheng Dafeng's humble mud hut was torn down, foundations solidified, and weathered fences dismantled.
When Chen Ping'an emerged, he avoided the winding mountain paths, instead leaping from stone to stone along the stream, saving precious time. The townsfolk, familiar with the lone orphan boy of Niping Alley famed for his skill in gathering herbs and burning charcoal, barely spared a glance at his nimble silhouette, likening his mountain agility to that of a monkey.
Pausing where two streams converged, Chen Ping'an spotted a group gathered near a jagged stone cliff a few yards downstream. Two tall, imposing young men stood on the bank and on a large exposed rock, each clad in sleek black robes overlaid with translucent blue silk, hair tied up with ornamental pins, and armed with gold-embroidered sword sheaths at their waists. They radiated a sharp, formidable aura. The moment Chen Ping'an appeared, both men abruptly fixed their gaze on him, hands tightening on their sword hilts.
Carrying his basket of herbs, Chen Ping'an remained unfazed. Having survived deadly encounters in narrow alleys with Cai Jinjian and Fu Nanhua, evaded the protective ape spirits of Zhengyang Mountain, and battled his peer Ma Kuxuan at the Immortal's Tomb—facing celestial beings, battle-hardened monsters, and fortune's chosen—he had proven resilient beyond measure. The fierce stares of these two swordsmen, which would cow ordinary townsfolk, stirred no significant emotion within him.
Wishing to avoid unnecessary conflict, Chen Ping'an prepared to step ashore and return along the mountain path when a young man, surrounded by attendants, smiled and addressed the swordsmen in the local dialect. Immediately, their hands relaxed. The young man rose from his seated posture, standing half a head taller than the swordsmen. His fair, delicate features bore a gentle, almost feminine grace. He beckoned Chen Ping'an warmly, assuring him in the local tongue, "Fear not, you may proceed as planned—we mean no harm."
Though the dialect was somewhat archaic and stilted, Chen Ping'an understood perfectly. Hesitating briefly, he smiled and gestured toward the shore, signaling he would soon disembark and not disturb their conversation. Without waiting for a reply, he deftly sprang to shore, his lean figure soon vanishing into the verdant forest path.
The tall man withdrew his hand with a slight sulk, while his attendants suppressed amused smiles. Embarrassed, he remarked, "That herb-gathering youth is quite skilled. See? This land breeds talents of its own. So don't grumble that our town lacks the grandeur of the capital. Small places have their own unique charm."
This man was none other than Wu Yuan, the townspeople's revered god of fortune, overseer of kiln affairs, and inaugural county magistrate of Longquan. Amid the laughter from his subordinates, he remained unperturbed, continuing, "The county office, Wenchang Pavilion, Martial Saint Temple, and City God Temple—just the plaques alone require no less than fifteen or sixteen. His Majesty was pleased that the Lizhu Cave realm settled peacefully, maintaining seven or eight tenths of the Great Li's territorial integrity without a single major earthquake. Thus, the emperor graciously bestowed a 'Reviewing the Past to Understand the New' plaque upon the Wenchang Pavilion."
At this, a refined young man smiled and teased, "Lord Wu, didn't you petition His Majesty for a calligraphy treasure for our county office as well?"
Wu Yuan sighed, "I did, but His Majesty refused. What can I do? It's hardly His Majesty's fault—after all, if a modest county office received imperial calligraphy, how would the prefects and governors survive? Would I even want to continue in officialdom then?"
Laughter rippled through the room. Wu Yuan comforted them, "Fortunately, Mr. Liu and the Grand Dean of the Imperial Academy have promised to send two plaques—one for the county office and another for the Martial Saint Temple. But the Wenchang Pavilion still needs three, and the City God Temple two more. Anyone here have ideas? Shall I write them myself? My handwriting is a squiggly mess that even my teacher despairs of. Of course, if you don't mind the embarrassment, I'm open. This would be the one and only chance in my life to have my own calligraphy turned into plaques!"
The elegant youth pondered, "I shall write to my grandfather. He is well acquainted with the reclusive master Bai Qiu; perhaps he can help bring honor to Lord Wu."
Wu Yuan clapped him on the shoulder, "The honor is yours. If the plaques fall short, and the magistrate's face is trampled, you'll be the one to answer for it."
The youth's expression stiffened, realizing he'd trapped himself. The others showed sympathy—Wu Yuan's ambition and boldness were well-known. A little encouragement, and he'd dare open the largest dye house in the capital. Who could outmatch his audacity?
These young officials, lighthearted yet determined, each held the title of Secretary Lang in the northern Dongbaoping Dynasty—either civil aides advising their lords or muscular guards bearing gold-threaded swords, like the two swordsmen present. Though Secretary Lang was a clerical rank beneath the court's formal officials, it was highly respected and salaried. Wu Yuan, from a modest clan, could not personally afford such attendants; the civil Secretaries were court-appointed. Though Longquan was merely a county, not even a prefecture, it was granted one civil and one military Secretary Lang. The two sword-bearers were evidently distinguished military veterans of the Great Li, worthy of their ornate blades.
Wu Yuan's appointment as Longquan's first magistrate spoke volumes. His mentor was the Great Li national master known as the "Embroidered Tiger," and his future father-in-law was a senior general with decades of service on the frontier.
After the jest, Wu Yuan resumed, "The scale of these four projects is vast. Moreover, the selection of sites for the Immortal's Tomb and Old Porcelain Mountain, stretching from Saint Ruan's to the clustered clans of Fulu Street and Taoye Alley, has been perfunctory. The path ahead will be fraught with obstacles. The real challenge lies with the impending ceremony involving the Ministry of Rites, the Imperial Observatory, and the Academy to enshrine the Mountain and River Gods. The resistance is so fierce even His Majesty hesitates; otherwise, the emperor himself might grace Longquan with his presence."
Noticing the grim faces, Wu Yuan bit into a hard biscuit and lightened the mood, "Whether the grand mountain god temple will rise on our Pi Yun Mountain, becoming the new Northern Peak of Great Li, is beyond our humble reach. We're but small fish in the county office. Leave the heavy burdens to the officials draped in yellow and purple."
The assembly's spirits lifted somewhat. Wu Yuan hesitated, then muttered ambiguously, "There's news—both good and bad. After the fall of the Lu Dynasty, resettling the displaced has been problematic. Longquan will soon receive five to ten thousand convicts—mixed crowds from all walks of life. The Great Li military will rigorously supervise their transfer here. This presents both opportunity and challenge. The upside is that Longquan is finally taking shape as a substantial county..."