The Grand Dan Dao of the Ximen Family

Dungeon.

A dimly lit dungeon, mud and puddles everywhere, the stench of rot and filth permeated every corner.

“Thank you, Senior Brother.”

“Greetings, Senior Brother!”

The two outer-sect disciples guarding the door nodded eagerly to Xie Wuji. With his hands clasped behind his back, Xie Wuji wore a calm expression, but inside he was delighted—bearing the title of an inner-sect disciple really did make everything go smoothly.

Xie Wuji cleared his throat and produced two spirit stones, saying, “I’m here to investigate a case. Why don’t you two go buy yourselves some wine and take a break? Just make sure no one disturbs me.”

The gatekeepers’ faces lit up at the sight of the spirit stones. Imagine, earning tips as a sect jailer! They scampered off happily.

Xie Wuji approached one of the cells and said, “You must be Ximen Pleasure-Seeker?”

Inside was a young man, just over twenty, handsome and dashing—the type women found irresistible at first glance.

The man frowned. “Wait, I’m—”

“Oh, there’s no need to rush. Let me finish first, and then you can speak…” Xie Wuji interrupted.

The man’s mouth opened. “But I’m not—”

“I know what you’re going to say. You want to claim you’re innocent, right? But if you do me a favor, perhaps I could put in a good word for you,” Xie Wuji said with a smile.

“Brother, I’m just trying to tell you I’m not Ximen. My name is Wang Erpi, an outer-sect disciple locked up for extortion. The Ximen you’re looking for is over there.” The man gestured.

Xie Wuji was taken aback. In the far corner sat a man as round as a ball, easily two or three hundred pounds, with a massive frame. Xie Wuji turned back to Wang Erpi, embarrassed. “Ah, sorry, sorry, wrong person!”

“You’re something else,” Wang Erpi shot him a look.

Xie Wuji opened another cell door. “Ximen?”

“Yes.”

“How did you end up like this? Are you really the world’s most notorious Flower Thief?” Xie Wuji couldn’t help but laugh.

Ximen’s face flushed with anger as he slammed a fist down. “You so-called righteous disciples all look down on people! When you arrested me, I told you I was Ximen, but you lot refused to believe it until I demonstrated my signature move, ‘Spring Breeze in Eighteen Moves,’ before you’d take me in!”

As it turned out, Ximen had been staying at an inn when Bai Li Qingyan, tipped off, arrived to make an arrest. Seeing a handsome scholar there, Bai Li went straight for him, ignoring Ximen. Unable to bear being overlooked, Ximen declared himself the real deal. But Bai Li had never seen Ximen before and wouldn’t believe him. Ximen insisted on being locked up to prove his identity, and after much back-and-forth, finally managed to get himself arrested.

Now, seeing Xie Wuji had also mistaken him for someone else, Ximen erupted in curses.

Xie Wuji could only sigh. “No, no, it’s just that everyone says the Flower Thief Ximen is charming, dashing, beloved by all, with girls falling over themselves at the sight of you. Were they all blind?”

“That’s where you’re mistaken,” Ximen replied loftily, flicking a curl from his forehead with an air of pride. “In these times, a man can’t rely on looks alone. My charm isn’t just in my handsome face, but in my depth of character!”

“Truly, appearances can be deceiving,” Xie Wuji said. “So you are Ximen. I’ve brought some wine—how about we share a drink?”

Ximen raised a hand. “No need. I never drink!”

“Why not?”

“Ladies of good breeding don’t like drunken men. I prefer composing poetry and admiring calligraphy and painting. That’s why people call me Lord Ximen.” Ximen’s tone brimmed with self-importance.

Xie Wuji couldn’t help but sweat. “So, Ximen Qing—are you related?”

“She’s gone. Ximen Qing was my sister—the world’s most notorious Grass Thief!”

“Grass thief?”

“Women are flowers, men are grass—don’t you know anything?” Ximen scoffed.

Xie Wuji felt utterly helpless—clearly, this Ximen wasn’t the one he’d heard about. Time to get to the point. “I’ve heard that Brother Ximen is well-versed in the art of alchemy. I came to seek your guidance.”

“Guidance? Never! I’d sooner die than let the Ximen family’s secrets fall into other hands! Never!” Ximen’s words halted abruptly as Xie Wuji pulled out a swimsuit magazine.

Ximen’s eyes nearly fell out of his head. He swallowed hard. “That’s quite the artwork… hehehe… Let me see, give it here…”

Xie Wuji snapped the magazine shut and feigned regret. “What a pity. If Brother Ximen won’t share the family’s alchemy secrets, I suppose I’ll have to take my leave. Until next time…”

“Wait!” Ximen’s plump body trembled as he stood, speaking solemnly. “My father once said that if we meet someone truly devoted to alchemy, the Ximen family’s techniques may be shared. Judging by your refined features and unique bearing, you must be a man of true devotion. I will make a painful sacrifice and share our alchemy with you—on one condition: leave this demonic book with me, so I may chastise these scantily-clad women! Their shamelessness is appalling!”

Xie Wuji tossed him the magazine. Ximen snatched it up like a starving dog after a bone, hugging it to his chest. “Ah, divine!”

Xie Wuji sat down cross-legged. “Brother Ximen, tell me about your family’s alchemy. I have many other treasures besides this book…”

At the mention of treasures, Ximen’s eyes gleamed. He cleared his throat. “I’m not some greedy lecher, but as a man of the world, it’s my duty to discipline these wicked women. Bring me everything you have—I must properly chastise them all today!”

“No problem,” Xie Wuji laughed. “As much as you want.”

“Wait, do you have any tissues?” Ximen asked suddenly.

Xie Wuji shuddered at the thought.

As Ximen perused the magazine, he recited the secrets of alchemy to Xie Wuji in fits and starts—a fair trade, in its way.

Simply reading notes would never suffice for Xie Wuji. As the saying goes, teaching by word and example is best. Having a mentor to impart the art of alchemy was invaluable.

Within the Danxia Sect, Ding Desheng was the undisputed master of alchemy, but he would never teach Xie Wuji. Relying on his own trial and error, Xie Wuji would never fulfill the order of three thousand pills.

Now, with Ximen’s appearance, Xie Wuji finally found hope.

After an afternoon of discussion, Xie Wuji felt an unprecedented clarity.

The next morning, he returned with food and drink, only to find the cell littered with tissues. Ximen lay exhausted in the corner, clutching the magazine, grinning foolishly.

“Heheheh, little demon, I disciplined you a hundred times in my mind yesterday—today it’ll be a thousand!” Ximen giggled lasciviously.

As he reached for more tissues…

“Ahem, Brother Ximen,” Xie Wuji called, knocking on the cell door. “I’m back.”

“You—ah, you sure know how to pick your moments! Are you here to take my wives away? I won’t allow it!” Ximen clutched the magazine tightly, terrified Xie Wuji might snatch it from him.

Xie Wuji produced a Western magazine, the images inside even more provocative than those in Ximen’s Japanese one. At the sight, Ximen’s blood surged; he immediately spouted twin streams of blood from his nose. “Good heavens! Why didn’t you bring this out sooner?”

“If I’d given you everything at once, would you still have taught me alchemy today?” Xie Wuji replied.

“Brother, you’re sharp. By the way, your reputation precedes you—you’ve already invented the legendary Exploding Fart Pill!” Ximen exclaimed.

Embarrassed, Xie Wuji corrected him. “It’s the Fragrant Fart Pill—a failed experiment, but useful in its way. Now, where were we yesterday? The Ximen family’s signature pills, right?”

“Fine, put the goods down and I’ll tell you!” Ximen wiped his nose and launched into the lesson in earnest.