Chapter 77: Journey to Hong Kong

In Lin Zhengying’s eyes, Zheng Xian was no ordinary man, and in Zheng Xian’s eyes, Lin Zhengying was even more extraordinary. Of course, Zheng Xian, lacking the method to perceive qi, could not see the illusory image of condensed magical power within Lin Zhengying, but he could sense that unique aura the man possessed.

Just by standing there, Lin Zhengying exuded a profound sense of security, as if with him present, all ghosts and monsters were nothing but fleeting clouds.

“You’re too polite, really. No need to call me Director anymore—the Divine Spear Bureau is already being dismantled,” Zheng Xian said warmly, grasping Lin Zhengying’s hand.

“It sounds like that department was pretty decent. Why the sudden shutdown?” Lin Zhengying replied casually, making small talk.

“The Divine Spear Bureau was originally set up to correspond to an international organization, but lately we’ve discovered that group’s got some serious issues. Besides, I hardly have any staff left, so we’re merging with the Supernatural Response Unit. The person standing next to you will actually be my future superior,” Zheng Xian explained, clearly unconcerned about the fate of his bureau—it seemed little more than a ceremonial post. Within the organizational structure, the Divine Spear Bureau had become redundant.

All three wore smiles, yet the atmosphere was oddly awkward.

“Well, let’s not stand on ceremony. If you have questions, ask them. I should say upfront, I’m a disciple of the new era. If we’re speaking in terms of the Heavenly Court, I’m no more than a temp worker, so there are things I don’t know, and things I might know but can’t tell you,” Lin Zhengying cautioned, laying the groundwork for their conversation.

“Understood. Could you introduce us to the side of the world you belong to—the mysterious side?” Guan Zhen asked, turning on the recording and camera equipment in front of Lin Zhengying.

“Mysterious side? That’s an external term, isn’t it? Internally, we call it the Cultivation World,” Lin Zhengying replied slowly. “But I’m not particularly well-versed myself—I’ve only been involved for sixty-some years.”

“You’re in your sixties?” Guan Zhen exclaimed in surprise. Judging by his appearance, Lin Zhengying looked like someone in his twenties or thirties, youthful and vibrant.

Lin Zhengying nodded. “Yes. Aside from the first ten years of growing up, I spent twenty years training with my master. Later, my master departed to the other side. Before leaving, he connected me to the Heavenly Court’s network and gave me a temporary worker identity. With nothing much to do, I went to university on a whim.”

Guan Zhen nodded; they had already looked into Lin Zhengying’s university record after receiving his name from Director Li. His alma mater was an ordinary college, studying civil engineering—a common major. During his four years, he showed no abnormalities, and his teachers spoke highly of him.

Guan Zhen and Zheng Xian exchanged a glance, silently agreeing that questioning Lin Zhengying one by one was inefficient. Since he was willing to cooperate, perhaps it was best to let him speak freely.

“Master Lin, why don’t you introduce yourself first?” Guan Zhen suggested.

“Not a problem. The basic information, you’ve already found. I’ll tell you something you don’t know—about my master,” Lin Zhengying replied, willing to cooperate.

“My master was skilled in cultivation five hundred years ago. He was supposed to leave with the rest, but happened to be in seclusion at the time, missing the departure. When he emerged, he figured he’d have enough time for another round of seclusion, but this time it lasted longer than expected, and he missed his chance again.”

“Then my master became stubborn, determined to wait it out. As the decades passed, spiritual energy dwindled, and with no one to maintain it, its vitality declined. Unable to endure it any longer, my master decided to tough it out for a few decades more. During that wait, he happened to take me as his disciple.”

Stubbornness? Isn’t cultivation supposed to be about serenity and detachment, free of desires? Guan Zhen and Zheng Xian felt their image of immortals shatter.

Lin Zhengying anticipated their reaction, remembering his own surprise when he first met his master.

“My master used to say, ‘Cultivation is for immortals, but the practice is for humans. If you strip away all humanity, you’re nothing but a stone, hardly an immortal at all.’ So, at least in my sect, we don’t demand you sever emotions or desires,” Lin Zhengying said, glancing up at the sky.

“The car’s ready. Shall we head out? We can continue this conversation in Hong Kong. I can introduce you to someone there,” he suggested.

“Of course, we’ll follow your lead,” Guan Zhen replied, standing shoulder to shoulder with Lin Zhengying, feeling a hint of nervous anticipation.

How would a cultivator travel? Would they fly? Would they teleport? If I’ve never teleported before, would it make me nauseous?

While Guan Zhen’s thoughts wandered, their destination arrived. They appeared atop a skyscraper in Hong Kong.

Zheng Xian patted Guan Zhen, signaling him to keep up.

Guan Zhen snapped back to reality, realizing he had changed locations without noticing. He felt queasy, dizzy, and his vision blurred—far worse than any pilot training he’d ever experienced.

“Master Lin, did we just teleport? How does that work?” Zheng Xian asked. He, too, felt nothing during the transition, only noticing their surroundings had changed after the fact.

“I don’t know the principle, exactly. You might compare it to a bullet train at full speed. Normally, this kind of teleportation would require something like a ticket, but nobody bothers with those anymore,” Lin Zhengying explained. “Also, the sudden spatial shift can make ordinary people feel uncomfortable, but don’t worry—it’s harmless. After a few trips, it’ll even sharpen your energy perception.”

Lin Zhengying glanced at Guan Zhen clutching his head and raised an eyebrow at Zheng Xian, as if to say, ‘Your future boss is like this—you’re not going to look after him?’

Zheng Xian smiled but didn’t respond. Right now, any act of caretaking would be inappropriate. Everyone lacked understanding of the Cultivation World, and every bit of information was precious.

Despite his discomfort, Zheng Xian kept pace, ears keen for every word, analyzing the conversation for clues.

In this harmonious yet discordant atmosphere, the three took the elevator down to the ground floor.

Across the street stood a large shopping mall. Lin Zhengying strode briskly toward a storefront along the road.

“Ding dong~ Welcome!” chimed the device as Lin Zhengying pushed open the door.

“Dad! Dad! We’ve got guests! Come greet them!” Lin Zhengying called out loudly, banging on the door.

Zheng Xian and Guan Zhen exchanged puzzled glances. Lin Zhengying’s parents had long since passed away, hadn’t they?

“Oh, stop shouting, stop shouting. Dad’s ears are just fine—I heard you,” came a raspy voice from inside. Along with the voice emerged a frail old man wearing tiny glasses.