Chapter 84: Stealing Peaches (Asking for a Recommendation Vote)

The crowd dispersed, clearing a vast open space for Master Guanghan and his disciple, eager to witness whatever marvels they might perform and hoping to be dazzled. The news traveled as if on wings—one told ten, ten told a hundred—and soon hundreds of people from Jiangzhou thronged before the Liao Studio, blocking every entrance and exit.

Facing the sea of heads, Chen Jianchen’s eyes gleamed. If nothing else, his Liao Studio had now become famous overnight, as if a sensational advertisement had been launched, instantly invigorating his business. He had worried about the remote location and the lack of customers for his newly opened shop, but thanks to Guanghan’s intervention, the crowds had arrived in droves.

As for Guanghan’s magic, it was bound to be extraordinary, for these were genuine Daoist arts—any casual display would be astonishing, unheard of by ordinary folk. The previous demonstration of growing pears was proof enough.

Once the crowd had gathered, Guanghan grinned, circled to give a respectful salute, reminiscent of a street performer, and announced in a clear voice, “I am but a humble Daoist, yet I have mastered a unique technique that can overturn the seasons. All fruits and vegetables, whatever is desired, can be conjured at will, as long as this gentleman requests it.”

He was referring to Chen Jianchen.

Upon hearing this, the audience stirred restlessly—such a feat sounded too mystical, creating something from nothing and defying the order of seasons. If Chen Jianchen were to make an impossible request, how could Guanghan possibly fulfill it?

Everyone’s curiosity was thoroughly piqued. They craned their necks, eyes fixed on Chen Jianchen, wondering what demand he might make.

“Master Daoist, I want a peach!”

It was not Chen Jianchen who spoke, but Wang Fu, standing beside him.

Guanghan was no ordinary Daoist, as Wang Fu knew, though he lacked a clear understanding of the extent of Guanghan’s abilities. The last time he sought to become Guanghan’s disciple, he begged for a long while before receiving a copy of “The Art of Invisibility,” only to find he couldn’t master it and made a fool of himself. He concluded the old Daoist was playing tricks on him and bore a grudge. Now, seeing Guanghan boasting again, Wang Fu seized the moment to make an unreasonable request, hoping to embarrass him.

Why? Because it was early winter, bitterly cold, and there were certainly no peaches to be found.

Sure enough, Guanghan appeared troubled, casting a hopeful glance at Chen Jianchen as if wishing he would intervene and rescue him. Yet Chen Jianchen saw through the act and remained silent.

Seeing this, the crowd immediately began to clamor, urging, “Transform it! Hurry and transform!”

Guanghan sighed and turned to his disciple, “Little Tiger, your master has spoken too boldly. Now they want a peach in the dead of winter—what should we do?”

The boy was also clever, his eyes wide. “Master, a man should keep his word. Refusal is not an option.”

Guanghan pretended to ponder deeply, then slowly replied, “In this frigid weather, it is impossible for peaches to exist in the mortal realm. However, in the Celestial Palace, the Queen Mother’s Peach Orchard bears fruit year-round. Thus, we must ascend to heaven and steal one.”

Little Tiger blinked in amazement. “Heaven is immeasurably high. How can we climb up there?”

Guanghan said, “No matter; your master has a technique.”

With that, he took a coil of rope from his bundle. No one knew its length. Seizing one end, he tossed it skyward. The rope soared up with a whistle, standing upright like a ladder to the heavens. Its far end vanished into the clouds, invisible to the eye.

This feat stunned everyone. Heads tilted back, mouths agape—they had never seen such magic.

Guanghan then said to his disciple, “Little Tiger, your master is old and frail, unable to climb. You must go.”

Little Tiger protested, “Master, you’re putting me in a difficult position. How can I climb such a slender rope to heaven? If anything happens halfway, I’ll fall to pieces, and there’ll be no one to care for you in your old age.”

Guanghan’s face grew stern. “Do you think your master’s arts are mere tricks? Stop complaining! Climb up and fetch a peach for the gentleman to taste. Don’t keep him waiting.”

Rebuked by his master, Little Tiger, feeling aggrieved, gripped the rope tightly and began to climb, wobbling precariously, causing the crowd to hold their breath.

Soon, he had climbed so high he was barely visible from below.

Nearly a thousand spectators gazed upward, captivated, their astonishment beyond words, unable to tell whether this was a trick or reality.

Even Chen Jianchen felt bewildered—was there truly a Celestial Palace as Guanghan described, inhabited by immortals?

Suddenly, the rope shook violently, as if someone above was pulling it with great force.

Guanghan’s expression changed. “This is bad—my disciple has been discovered by the heavenly guards!”

He quickly grabbed the rope’s end and held it fast.

The sudden turn of events made the crowd gasp. Some men rushed forward, intending to help Guanghan hold the rope.

Just then, Little Tiger appeared atop the rope, first a tiny speck, then, as he descended faster, his figure became visible.

With a thud, he jumped down, his face flushed from exhaustion, clutching a peach the size of a fist, its color vibrant and dew still clinging to its skin, freshly picked.

He presented the peach respectfully to Chen Jianchen. “Sir, the peach has been plucked. Please accept it.”

Chen Jianchen took it, inhaling its fragrant aroma. As he hesitated, Guanghan’s voice reached his ear, “Master Chen, this is a Longevity Peach. Eating it will extend your years. It is a small token of goodwill, meant only to foster a good fate between us, nothing more.”

Chen Jianchen pondered these words, but did not eat. Instead, he bowed, “Thank you, Master Daoist, for your gift.” Holding the peach, he turned to his mother, seated behind him. “Mother, please enjoy the peach.”

Lady Mo’s eyes brimmed with tears as she received it and took a bite. Instantly, she tasted sweetness and fragrance unlike any she had ever experienced, and could not help but exclaim, “Delicious!”

At this, the audience was dumbfounded—this was beyond any magic trick, bordering on legendary immortality.

Wait, where were the Daoist master and his disciple?

As the crowd searched, Guanghan and Little Tiger had vanished into thin air before their eyes, no one seeing how they disappeared.

Living immortals, terrestrial deities—so many in attendance knelt and prayed fervently.

And so it ended.