After the Immortals disappeared

It turns out that even being a spendthrift requires skill. Despite He Lingchuan's best efforts to burn through money, he had only managed to spend two hundred taels in a month.

In this remote frontier, one hundred taels was enough to comfortably sustain a family of four for five or six years!

Ying Hongchan coughed lightly and said, "Lingchuan, I was just about to discuss something with you. We've been spending too much during the summer and autumn, and the household needs to tighten its belt. Starting next month, your monthly allowance will be reduced to eighty taels." She cast a sidelong glance at her husband as she spoke.

Before He Chunhua could respond, He Lingchuan had already exclaimed, "Eighty taels? Two trips to Hongyan Tower and it's gone!"

Ying Hongchan's face darkened slightly. "Your younger brother doesn't even spend twenty taels a month."

"He…" He Lingchuan protested, "He eats and drinks at home. What could he possibly spend money on? I have people under my command, and I need to maintain relationships in the city. All of that costs money—it's not just for me!"

"Maintain relationships?" Ying Hongchan sneered. "Those people fawn over you, but their eyes are fixed on your father. Do you think those relationships need upkeep? Our family doesn't lack guard dogs."

Not giving He Lingchuan a chance to retort, she continued, "The current situation is turbulent, and money and grain must be used wisely. Lingchuan, your father and I don't ask you to solve the family's problems, but at least don't create more."

These words struck hard. He Lingchuan felt a stifling discomfort in his chest and couldn't help but feel resentful.

This wasn't entirely his own emotion.

In fact, every time the family dined together, he could sense a deep-rooted "unhappiness" emanating from his subconscious—a visceral reaction from the original He Lingchuan. The hostility seemed primarily directed at the family matriarch, despite He Chunhua's evident care for his eldest son.

"Father," he decisively turned to his father.

He Chunhua pondered for a moment before replying, "Your mother is right. But eighty taels…" He hesitated, then relented slightly. "Make it two hundred."

One hundred taels would have sufficed, sparing He Lingchuan the effort of overspending. "That's still too little!" He Lingchuan scowled. "Three hundred taels!"

Mother and son argued back and forth, with He Chunhua mediating and occasionally stepping in to smooth things over. In the end, Ying Hongchan firmly set the amount at one hundred and eighty taels, refusing to budge.

Ying Hongchan shot her husband a reproachful look. She had intended to cut her eldest son's allowance significantly, but her soft-hearted husband had only managed to shave off twenty taels!

It's true—those who don't manage the household never understand the cost of daily living.

"We'll save over six hundred taels a month," He Yue calculated aloud, his eyes gleaming. "That's enough to buy dozens of fine suits of armor, a few excellent warhorses, or recruit at least sixty soldiers."

Before he could finish, He Lingchuan slapped the table and stood up. "I'm done eating!"

As he strode out of the dining hall, he grabbed a stewed pear from a brass basin and ate it as he walked.

The pear had been simmered for over half an hour with rock sugar and Sichuan peppercorns, making it sweet, tender, and soothing—perfect for cooling down after a lamb-heavy meal.

No one stopped him.

Near the edge of the garden, He Lingchuan glanced back and saw the three still seated at the table, eating and chatting amicably.

He shrugged and strode back to his residence.

To be fair, He Chunhua treated his eldest son quite well. He Lingchuan occupied the largest, quietest, and most beautiful courtyard on the east side, complete with black pines, white peach trees, meandering streams, and a small martial training ground.

He Yue's residence was also on the east side, but it was only half the size of his brother's.

The sole servant in the courtyard appeared at the sound of his return but was quickly dismissed with a wave.

He Lingchuan removed his shirt and practiced boxing under the moonlight for over half an hour, until he was drenched in sweat.

Though the original He Lingchuan lacked literary talent, he was a martial arts enthusiast, unafraid of hardship—a rarity among noble scions. The He family, which had produced military generals in the past, possessed its own set of body-tempering techniques, which He Chunhua had personally passed on to his eldest son.

As he practiced, a faint white mist began to envelop his muscular frame, becoming more distinct under the moonlight.

Recognizing the timing, He Lingchuan swiftly stopped and sat down to regulate his breathing.

The white mist gradually returned to his body through his nose and mouth.

This completed one cycle.

He was practicing the He family's ancestral divine art, known as the Guiding Technique.

Through body-tempering exercises, He Lingchuan forced his internal energy to the surface, allowing it to interact closely with the world's spiritual energy—especially the moonlight—before drawing it back in through controlled breathing, refining and purifying it.

Thus, through movement and stillness, expulsion and absorption, pushing and pulling, the cycle was complete.

While the Guiding Technique could be performed independently, starting with body-tempering exercises helped expel accumulated cold, impurities, and ailments from the body, significantly enhancing the effectiveness of the energy purification.

After finishing, He Lingchuan felt invigorated. Grabbing a white towel, he headed for a hot bath.

The water, prepared by a diligent servant—a plain, honest man in his thirties—was steaming and ready.

Soaking in the hot water, He Lingchuan let out a long sigh. If only someone were here to scrub his back—now that would be perfect.

Heishui City, being a hub of southern and northern trade, naturally had bathhouses, or bath establishments, where communal bathing and back-scrubbing were customary services. However, such luxuries weren't available at home, and the He family's eldest son had no maidservants to cater to him.

Not one, be they in their teens, twenties, or even thirties.

Practicing the He family's martial arts required maintaining one's chastity for optimal results and lifelong benefits.

In his youth, He Lingchuan had been oblivious to this requirement. As he grew older and saw his peers enjoying the pleasures of life, he had confronted He Chunhua about it, only to witness his father lament dramatically.

He Lingchuan, devoted to the martial path, couldn't bear the thought of abandoning his progress midway and thus resigned himself to this restriction.

Out of consideration for his son's discipline, He Chunhua refrained from assigning any female attendants to his courtyard.

Sitting in the wooden tub, He Lingchuan's thoughts drifted to the leopard demon of Xishan, the Eastern Commandery guards captured by the Red-White Path, and the miscellaneous items hidden in the leopard's fangs.

When would the Eastern Commandery notice that their guards in Heishui City had gone missing?

How would they react?

And how would the governor respond?

His hand instinctively went to the necklace on his chest. He glanced at it twice before yanking it off and hurling it into the distant garden.

The necklace arced through the air and flew over the wall.

Moments later, he felt a strange sensation in his chest. Looking down, he saw the necklace had returned, resting comfortably around his neck.

No matter how many times he threw it away, the necklace always came back.

Examining it closely, he realized it wasn't made of jade as it appeared, but rather something resembling ivory.

Ivory and bone, after all, shared similar compositions.

On the day of his fall, he had heard the leopard roar a new term: Divine Bone.

Could this stubborn pendant be a Divine Bone?