Chapter 114: A True Practitioner of the Tao?

The black cat leapt down from the beam, landing steadily on the floor. Its pair of gleaming green eyes stared directly at Chen Jin. Chen Jin met its gaze without a trace of fear—no, rather, he looked down on it, for he was certainly taller than the cat.

“Meow…”

The black cat let out a single meow; it seemed incapable of speaking human language. But Chen Jin did not speak cat either, so the two could only stare at each other in silence.

However…

“You’re not Zhang Junbao,” the black cat suddenly spoke in human words. “Who are you?”

“I am a disciple of the Immortal Master Ge Hong. You demons have quite the nerve to show yourself before me,” Chen Jin said, waving a bold banner of bluff. After all, nonsense costs nothing.

“You’re the one who’s bold, daring to usurp a mortal’s body and live again. Aren’t you afraid of heavenly retribution?” The cat’s eyes glared at Chen Jin, claws scratching the floor twice.

“I’ve been reincarnated, living once more—where’s the retribution in that?” Chen Jin sneered dismissively.

Neither moved to strike; both understood that the other was not someone to be easily overcome in a short time. So they engaged in verbal sparring, indulging in a battle of words.

“Heh… reincarnation and cultivation anew…” The black cat clearly did not believe Chen Jin’s excuse.

Yet the heavenly retribution the cat mentioned had not fallen upon him, so Chen Jin stubbornly held his ground. In truth, Chen Jin himself was unsure whether this was true reincarnation or possession, as the Black Leather Book was too profound and mysterious for him to unravel.

“You toy with the dead, disrupt yin and yang, and harm lives—are you not afraid of divine punishment?” Chen Jin retorted without restraint, throwing a scornful label at the cat.

“Heh…” The black cat merely responded with a cold laugh, offering no defense.

The cat’s cold laugh carried no hint of humor—unlike the silly Garfield; any cat’s cold laugh could be imagined as eerie and sinister, sending chills to one’s heart and dread to one’s soul.

“Heh…” Chen Jin laughed coldly in return, showing no fear.

Then, silence fell again between man and cat, their cold gazes locking once more.

The stillness in the room lasted for a full minute.

At last, footsteps outside broke the tense standoff.

***

Three knocks sounded at the door, followed by a voice: “Second Young Master, the master requests your presence in the parlor.”

No sooner had the words been spoken than the door was pushed open, and two maids entered. That they spoke outside the door beforehand was already the greatest respect they could afford Chen Jin—who was, after all, Zhang Junbao. Zhang Junbao was considered a fool; what respect would anyone normally show a fool?

“I’m going to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow,” Chen Jin said. Within seconds, he undressed and climbed into bed, while the black cat leapt back up to the beam.

“Second Young Master, there’s your favorite big turtle in the parlor. Won’t you come see it?” The maids tried to tempt him. They could not forcibly drag Chen Jin out of bed and into the parlor; after all, they were servants, not masters of the household. Any servant daring to offend even a foolish master would face severe punishment.

At the mention of the big turtle, Chen Jin winced inwardly. From the memories he had absorbed from Zhang Junbao, Zhang had a fondness for turtles—whether alive in the pond or stewed in a pot. He liked to watch them and to eat them.

So Zhang Junbao was peculiar, though it was natural for a fool to be strange.

But if Chen Jin were to adopt Zhang’s eccentricities, the black cat perched on the beam would surely mock him without mercy.

“No. Let it go free. Heaven values life—do not harm living creatures,” Chen Jin refused once more, weaving in a moral pretext.

“Second Young Master, the master is urging you. Please don’t sleep now, alright? Come to the parlor and when you return, I’ll bring you the novella,” the maid coaxed again.

“Hmmm…” Chen Jin lengthened the sound as if to agree. But after a full minute, he resolutely said, “No! I’m sleeping.”

The maids exchanged glances, displeased at having their hopes raised only to be dashed. They had no choice; Chen Jin was now Zhang Junbao, a master of the Zhang family. Though he was mad and foolish, he was still a master. The servants lacked the authority to forcibly remove him.

One maid was sent to fetch Zhang Junbao’s father, while the other remained to watch over Chen Jin.

“Are you really not going?” The black cat’s voice came from the beam above.

The maid seemed not to hear a thing.

This was a subtle use of mixed primal energy, like a silencing spell from a martial arts novel—only Chen Jin could hear the cat’s words, not the maid.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Chen Jin responded in kind with a silencing thread.

“The one they call the Immortal Master,” Chen Jin referred to the figure the two Taoist priests had mentioned.

“Yes, he has arrived,” the black cat replied.

***

“Aren’t you leaving yet?” Chen Jin asked.

“You haven’t asked what we’re looking for. How can I leave without that?” The cat’s tone was teasing.

“Oh? Then what are you searching for?” Chen Jin had never encountered such a request and was naturally willing to oblige.

“I’m leaving.”

With that, the black cat truly departed from the room.

“…Naughty,” Chen Jin muttered, stunned for a moment.

He then rolled over and got out of bed. “Alright, let’s go to the parlor.”

The maids’ eyes widened, struggling to keep up with their young master’s thoughts.

Without waiting for their reaction, Chen Jin headed straight for the parlor.

The parlor was the second hall along the main axis of the Zhang family estate, reserved for entertaining guests.

The front halls of the Zhang residence were noisy at this hour—voices overlapped in quarrels, cries, and chatter, a chaotic symphony flooding Chen Jin’s ears and consciousness.

He did not block out the sounds; this was not the kind of cosmic or heavenly law information that would overwhelm his mind.

Approaching the parlor entrance, Chen Jin sensed a surge of unfamiliar mixed primal energy flowing inside.

He immediately released his own primal energy, dispersing all foreign energies within a three-foot radius around him, seeking a measure of safety.

“Indeed, a true Daoist cultivator!” A loud, resonant voice echoed from within the parlor as Chen Jin stepped through the door.

“……”