Chapter 8:
Good Night’s Sleep
DRAWING SPIRITUAL ENERGY into one’s body was easiest around midnight, when the spiritual energy was at its most placid. For now, after he’d set up the protective barrier, Mo Tianliao took a seat at the table and began reviewing the account books.
The cat inside his robes woke and poked his snow-white head out of his collar. He cast a lazy glance at the papers on the table and yawned.
Mo Tianliao craned his neck down, trying to kiss him, but his collar opening was too low, so he gave up. “Awake now, Pawpaw? Are you hungry?”
The cat bounded up from his collar to his shoulder and peered down at the account book in his hand.
Mo Tianliao nuzzled the cat with his ear. “The Woqing Sanctum’s routine affairs are a mess.”
The cat scratched his ear with his hind paw. What mess? I don’t see anything wrong with them?
Not expecting an answer from the little furball, Mo Tianliao started scanning through the account book. These second-generation disciples thought that bringing him all these books would overwhelm him, but to Mo Tianliao, who possessed a divine soul at the soul transformation stage, it was a piece of cake. After all, with a soul at that level, one could read countless books a day and still remember every word.
Less than two hours later, Mo Tianliao had gone through all the account books on the table.
Overall, it wasn’t too messy. At least it was clear who was supposed to do what. However, the allocation wasn’t optimal, with many unclear processes and loopholes.
Take, for example, the monthly allocation of resources for Woqing Sanctum. Every month, the sect leader’s Chamber of Administrative Affairs would deliver those resources over to the sanctum-masters, and the various chief disciples would then distribute them to the individual disciples. This process left plenty of room for someone to engage in funny business; there was no guarantee of fairness for all.
Mo Tianliao closed the books, having already thought of a plan. It was getting late. He stretched. “Pawpaw, let’s sleep.”
He carried the cat to bed, intending to take a nap to recharge before it was time to cultivate at midnight.
“Meow!” The fluffy little white creature struggled free from Mo Tianliao’s arms and jumped off the bed. He clearly had no intention of napping with him.
Mo Tianliao propped his head up on one hand and looked at the cat sitting on the floor. “Go play by yourself if you don’t want to sleep. And don’t go around eating random food.”
The cat couldn’t escape the courtyard with the barrier in place, so Mo Tianliao fell asleep without worrying about it.
The white cat leaped onto the windowsill, glanced back at the sleeping Mo Tianliao, twitched his ear, and jumped out, effortlessly passing through the courtyard’s barrier.
He made his way through the night to Qingning Palace, which was lit up with lamps made of colored glaze. Light shone through the crystal walls, making the whole place breathtakingly beautiful.
The white cat sprang onto the jade steps and transformed into a tall, slender man in a flash of white light. Dressed in white robes, he seemed to emanate a subtle glow as he ascended.
The palace doors opened before he reached them, and the brightly lit interior illuminated his impossibly handsome face—the face of none other than the master of this palace, Qingtong.
“Sanctum-master.” Several attendants in white dresses stepped forward and bowed as he entered the inner chamber. One of them carried his robes, another held a teacup, and yet another had a jade comb in hand.
Qingtong-zhenren lifted his arms, allowing the attendants to take off his sheer outer robe and change him into softer garments. Then they removed his exquisite jade crown and smoothed his hair with the comb, running it all the way to the ends of those silky, ink-black strands.
He waved them away with a fair, almost translucent hand. The attendants disappeared just as quickly as they had appeared.
Qingtong raised his left hand, and his smooth, wide sleeve slid down, revealing a bracelet three fingers wide clasped tightly around his delicate forearm. Dark blue gemstones sparkled brilliantly against the intricate, luxurious silver casing, so ornately beautiful that female cultivators would have willingly paid tens of thousands of spiritual stones for it if they’d laid their eyes on it.
Mo Tianliao always prioritized functionality over aesthetic for his creations; most of the time, they turned out ugly. Only the items he made for his cat were this meticulously and exquisitely crafted. Everyone said Lord Duantian had superb skills but poor taste. Little did they know he was the finest artisan of all—those people just weren’t worth his efforts.
Qingtong lowered his hand, letting his sleeve fall to cover the beautiful sight within. He walked through the layers of sheer curtains in the inner chamber toward his bedchamber.
The spacious bedchamber was dark, although it didn’t affect Qingtong’s vision as he strolled over to the large, soft bed and sank into its embrace. He’d finally found his human; he could now sleep in peace.
The moon ascended high in the sky. Midnight finally arrived.
Mo Tianliao opened his eyes and estimated the time, thinking he ought to craft an artifact for timekeeping when he had some free time; it was really tiresome to be constantly guessing.
Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he took out the few spiritual stones he had left in his inventory bracelet and placed them beside him. This place was abundant with spiritual energy, so logically, there should be enough for his use. However, accidents could happen, and one could never be too prepared. If he failed, he would damage his meridians, and he would need a month’s rest before he could make another attempt. He’d need to succeed on the first try.