Courtyard Check-in: Starting with a Small World of Cultivation

July 28th, 6:00 AM.

The southbound train slowly pulled into Guangzhou Station. Chen Yu, carrying his suitcase, disembarked with the flow of people. The platform was bustling with noise, a mix of Cantonese vendors' cries, Mandarin inquiries for directions, and train whistles. The air was humid and stuffy, a stark contrast to the dry and cool north.

"Comrade, how do I get to Hong Kong?" Chen Yu asked a uniformed staff member in Mandarin.

"Buy tickets for the Guangzhou-Kowloon Through Train over there. There's one train at 9:00 AM today." The staff member pointed in a direction. "Make sure you have both your border pass and your Mainland Travel Permit for Hong Kong and Macau."

Chen Yu thanked them and headed towards the ticket office. The Guangzhou-Kowloon Through Train was the main route between the mainland and Hong Kong at the time, running twice a day. He queued up to buy a ticket, then found a breakfast shop near the station and ordered a bowl of congee and rice noodle rolls. The congee was smooth and creamy, and the rice noodle rolls were springy and delicious—authentic Cantonese flavors.

While waiting for his train, he noticed a few people behaving strangely in the station—two middle-aged men in polyester shirts, seemingly chatting, but their eyes kept scanning the waiting room, paying particular attention to lone travelers carrying luggage. Their right hands were both on their hips, a position usually… for gun holsters.

"Plainclothes police," Chen Yu deduced. It seemed that Guangzhou was conducting very strict checks on people traveling to Hong Kong.

He discreetly took out his documents to check: Huang Wenyuan's Hong Kong and Macau travel permit used the alias "Chen Yuyu," listed "businessman" as his occupation, and was issued by the Guangdong Provincial Public Security Department. The photo was of him, but he looked slightly younger, and all the official seals were present. The border pass was also standard, valid for one month.

should be no problem.

Ticket checking began at 8:40. Chen Yu followed the crowd to the platform. Sure enough, the two plainclothes officers were near the ticket gates, carefully checking everyone's identification and occasionally asking questions. When it was Chen Yu's turn, one of the officers took his identification, looked at the photo, and then looked up at him.

"Chen Yu-yu? What's she going to Hong Kong for?"

"Let's talk business, we need to purchase some electronic components," Chen Yu replied in Mandarin with a slight Southeast Asian accent—something Huang Wenyuan had trained him to do.

"Where are you staying?"

"I have booked a room at the Kowloon Hotel."

"How long will you stay?"

"About ten days."

The plainclothes officer returned his identification to him and waved him on, saying, "Go on."

The Guangzhou-Kowloon Through Train was a green-skinned train, with basic conditions, but it was cleaner than trains in the north. Chen Yu found his seat, by the window. Opposite him sat an elderly couple speaking Shanghainese; next to them was a young man wearing glasses, carrying a briefcase, who looked like a technician on a business trip.

The train started moving, and the scenery outside the window gradually changed from city to farmland, then to hills. Chen Yu closed his eyes to rest, but his spiritual sense quietly expanded, probing the carriage. Most of the passengers were ordinary people, but a few were noteworthy: in the first three rows, there was a middle-aged man in a suit holding an English newspaper, but his eyes were sharp, like a soldier; in the last two rows, there was a young woman, dressed fashionably, but her fingers had calluses, suggesting she had practiced some kind of musical instrument or…weapon.

"The people in this car are all quite extraordinary," Chen Yu thought to himself. In 1970, anyone who could go to Hong Kong either had official business, a powerful background, or special connections.

Around noon, the train arrived at Luohu Station in Shenzhen. All passengers disembarked and walked across the Luohu Bridge—the famous bridge connecting the mainland and Hong Kong. On this side of the bridge, the Chinese national flag was displayed, while on the other side, the Union Jack was seen, creating a striking contrast.

Crossing the bridge involved complicated procedures, including checking documents and luggage, and answering various questions from border control officers. Chen Yu handled it patiently, and his identity as a businessman from Southeast Asia seemed to be well-received; the border control officers only asked a few simple questions before letting him pass.

The moment Chen Yu set foot on Hong Kong soil, his first impression was—heat. It wasn't the dry heat of the north, nor the sultry heat of Guangzhou, but a humid, sticky heat, with the air carrying the smell of the sea and car exhaust.

The second impression was—noise. Car horns, tram jingles, vendors' cries, Cantonese, English, and Chaoshan dialect all mingled together, creating a unique urban cacophony.

My third impression was—brightness. Although it was still afternoon, neon lights had already illuminated both sides of the street, with colorful signs layered upon each other: "Chow Tai Fook Jewellery", "Wing On Department Store", "Miramar Hotel"... Traditional Chinese characters and English were mixed together, and the colors were so bright they were almost blinding.

"Sir, do you need a rickshaw?" a rickshaw driver in a short jacket asked in broken Mandarin.

"To the Kowloon Hotel," Chen Yu replied in Cantonese—the language pack provided by the system came in handy.

The rickshaw driver's eyes lit up: "A local? Get in!"

The Kowloon Hotel, located on Nathan Road in Tsim Sha Tsui, was a mid-range hotel in Hong Kong at the time. When Chen Yu checked in, the receptionist was a well-dressed young woman who asked in accented English, "Mr. Chan, single room for ten nights, correct?"

"Yes." Chen Yu handed over his identification and advance payment.

The room was on the fifth floor. It wasn't big, but it had a private bathroom, which was considered quite good at the time. Outside the window was the street scene of Nathan Road, where double-decker buses, trams, and cars shuttled through the narrow streets. Pedestrians thronged the area, with women wearing brightly colored dresses and men mostly in suits or short-sleeved shirts, a stark contrast to the predominantly blue and gray clothing of the mainland.

Chen Yu put down his luggage and took a cold shower first—July in Hong Kong was incredibly hot and humid. After changing into a light cotton-linen shirt and trousers, he decided to go for a walk and familiarize himself with the surroundings.

Nathan Road is the main thoroughfare of Kowloon, lined with shops. Chen Yu walked among the crowd, his spiritual sense quietly unfolding to sense the city's "qi" (energy). Unlike the almost non-existent spiritual energy on the mainland, Hong Kong, while also lacking in spiritual energy, faintly sensed a trace of... sea spiritual energy? There was also a faint earth energy emanating from some old buildings.

"Hong Kong's dragon vein has not been severed." He recalled what Huang Wenyuan had said: "The British chose this place by chance. Victoria Harbour is a natural deep-water harbor and a place of auspicious feng shui."

As Chen Yu approached Chungking Mansions, he noticed several Indian men whispering among themselves at the alley entrance, their eyes wary. One of them saw him and said something in Hindi, after which the group quickly dispersed.

"Illegal transaction?" Chen Yu ignored it and continued walking forward.

He sat down at a tea restaurant and ordered an iced lemon tea and a pineapple bun. The restaurant was noisy, and the radio was playing Sam Hui's "The Eiffel Tower." A few young people at the next table were discussing stocks: "Cheung Kong Holdings went up again today; Li Ka-shing is really shrewd..."

Chen Yu ate and listened attentively, gathering information. From the conversation, he learned that the Hong Kong stock market was booming, the real estate market was heating up, the electronics industry was just starting out, and antique collecting was a hobby for a small number of wealthy people.

At four o'clock in the afternoon, he went to Boundary Street in Kowloon Tong, following the address given by Huang Wenyuan. It was quieter than Tsim Sha Tsui, with mostly detached houses and shady trees. Number 128 was a three-story building with a sign that read "Guo An Trading Company" in traditional Chinese characters. It was very small and inconspicuous.

After ringing the doorbell, a middle-aged man in a traditional Chinese suit opened the door. He had an ordinary face and gentle eyes: "Who are you looking for?"

"Is Mr. Li Guoan here? I am Chen Yuyu, introduced by Mr. Huang."

The middle-aged man sized him up for a moment, then nodded: "Come in."

The room was simply furnished but very clean. A set of mahogany sofas sat in the living room, and a landscape painting hung on the wall. The middle-aged man—Li Guoan—invited Chen Yu to sit down and poured him a cup of tea: "Old Huang has already called. Did Mr. Chen have a safe journey?"

"smoothly."

"Are all your documents complete?"

"complete."

Li Guoan took a folder out of the drawer: "This contains basic information about the auction. Christie's auction will last for three days, with a preview from August 5th to 7th and the official auction on August 8th. The 'Vermilion Bird Bronze Lamp' is one of the final lots on the third day, lot number L-087."

Chen Yu opened the folder, which contained a copy of the auction catalog, with photos and descriptions of each item. The photo of the Vermilion Bird Bronze Lamp was black and white, but it was clear that it was a bronze oil lamp with a simple and antique design, and the lamp base was engraved with a Vermilion Bird pattern. The description read: "A bronze lamp from the Tang Dynasty, said to be a court item, with a special formula for its oil, allowing it to burn continuously."

"The special formula should be obsidian powder," Chen Yu said, pointing to the photo. "The area around the lamp base is dark red, which may be due to the presence of minerals mixed in."

"Experts have confirmed that it does contain trace amounts of radioactive elements, which matches the characteristics of obsidian." Li Guoan then took out several photos. "This is a preview layout, along with information on several key figures."

The photo shows several men: a British man wearing gold-rimmed glasses, the head of Christie's Hong Kong branch; an elderly man in a long robe, a famous collector in Hong Kong; and another... Chen Yu's eyes narrowed—it was the middle-aged man reading the English newspaper on the train!

"Who is this person?"

"Liu Zhenbang is a Singaporean Chinese businessman who ostensibly deals in rubber, but in reality, he is a middleman for several cultural relic smuggling groups in Southeast Asia," Li Guoan said, pointing to the photo. "His target this time is also the Vermilion Bird Bronze Lamp."

"Could Scarface's team bid through him?"

"It's highly likely." Li Guoan nodded. "We monitored that after Liu Zhenbang arrived in Hong Kong yesterday, he went to a warehouse in Wan Chai. Several suspicious people went in and out of there, one of whom had a scar on his face."

Scarface has indeed arrived!

"Could you arrange for me to enter the auction preview?"

"It's all arranged." Li Guoan handed over an invitation. "The first preview is tomorrow morning at 10:00 AM. You are Chen Yuyu, a wealthy businessman from Southeast Asia, interested in antique lamps, and planning to open a high-end restaurant. You need some unique decorations—this reason makes perfect sense."

Chen Yu accepted the invitation; it was gold-embossed and more exquisite than the one Huang Wenyuan had given him.

"Also," Li Guoan lowered his voice, "we have informants within the auction house who will provide you with support. But remember, your primary task is to confirm whether the bronze lamp is truly related to obsidian, and only then should you bid. If Scarface's team goes too far, don't fight for it, lest you expose yourself."

"clear."

"There's something else," Li Guoan said, his expression turning serious. "Things haven't been peaceful in Hong Kong lately. Last month, an antique dealer in Macau was murdered in his home, and a batch of Ming Dynasty jade artifacts was stolen. Two weeks ago, a shootout broke out in Kowloon Walled City, resulting in five deaths and injuries. It's said that two smuggling gangs were fighting over goods. You need to be extra careful here. Hong Kong isn't the mainland; there are many things... that the law can't handle."

Chen Yu nodded. In 1970s Hong Kong, collusion between the police and criminals and rampant triads were commonplace, especially in Kowloon Walled City, which was a true lawless zone.

It was already dark when Chen Yu left Guoan Trading Company. Instead of returning to the hotel, he walked along Nathan Road towards the Tsim Sha Tsui pier. He wanted to see the night view of Victoria Harbour.

The pier was bustling with tourists, and ferries shuttled between Kowloon and Hong Kong Island. On the opposite shore, Central was already ablaze with lights, the early skyscrapers like the HSBC Building and Jardine House brightly lit, outlining the Hong Kong Island skyline. On the sea, fishing boats, cargo ships, and ferries crisscrossed the waters, their horns sounding incessantly.

Chen Yu stood by the railing, the sea breeze carrying the salty, fishy smell and the stench of diesel fuel. Gazing at the dazzling lights on the opposite shore, he was filled with mixed emotions. This was another world—prosperous, bustling, full of opportunities, but also fraught with danger.

"Sir, are you alone?" A charming female voice sounded beside him.

Turning my head, I saw a young woman in a cheongsam, with exquisite makeup and alluring eyes. She was carrying a small bag and smelled of cheap perfume.

"Waiting for someone," Chen Yu said calmly.

"Who are you waiting for? Do you want me to wait with you?" The woman took a step closer.

Chen Yu scanned the area with his spiritual sense and discovered two more men watching from a distance, clearly accomplices. This was a common "fishing" tactic at the docks, specifically targeting solo travelers.

"No need." Chen Yu turned to leave.

The woman suddenly grabbed his sleeve: "Sir, don't go..." Her hand moved quickly, and her other hand was already reaching into his pocket—a pickpocket!

Chen Yu flicked his wrist, gripping her pulse point with just the right amount of force: "Miss, please have some self-respect."

The woman's expression changed; she tried to break free but couldn't move. Seeing this, the two men in the distance quickly approached.

Chen Yu didn't want to cause trouble, so he released his grip and said coldly, "Tell your boss not to mess with people he shouldn't." After saying that, he turned and left, his figure quickly disappearing into the crowd.

The three men stood frozen in place, too afraid to give chase.

It was already nine o'clock in the evening when Chen Yu returned to the hotel. He took a shower, sat by the window, and opened the auction catalog, carefully studying the details of the Vermilion Bird Bronze Lamp. Although his Spiritual Eye Technique couldn't directly view the photograph, he could deduce the lamp's possible purpose by combining it with the records in the silk scroll.

"The Vermilion Bird belongs to fire, and the copper lamp is the container. If it really contains obsidian powder, then this lamp may not be just a lighting tool..." He recalled a magical artifact mentioned in the silk scroll - the "Vermilion Bird Fire Lamp", which is made of copper and has obsidian as its core. When lit, it can release pure fire elemental energy to assist in the cultivation of fire-type techniques and can also be used as an auxiliary tool for refining fire-type magical artifacts.

If this is indeed the case, its value far exceeds that of ordinary cultural relics!

Just as I was thinking, the phone rang.

"Mr. Chen? This is the receptionist. A Mr. Lin is looking for you; he said he was referred by Ms. Liu."

Ms. Liu? Liu Yuhua? Her cousin Lin Yongchang?

"Please invite him up."

Five minutes later, there was a knock on the door. The door opened to find a man in his fifties, slightly overweight, wearing a well-tailored suit and carrying a briefcase.

"Mr. Chen? I am Lin Yongchang, Yuhua's cousin."

"Mr. Lin, please come in."

Lin Yongchang entered the room, looked around, and smiled, "The conditions are a bit simple, Mr. Chen, please don't mind. Yuhua called me and asked me to take good care of you. How are you? Are you settling into Hong Kong?"

"It's alright, thank you for your concern, Mr. Lin."

"Don't be so polite, we're all on the same side." Lin Yongchang sat down and took out several documents from his briefcase. "I heard you're interested in antiques. I happen to know a few collectors, and this is their information. Also, if you need to exchange foreign currency or find a lawyer, I can help you."

Chen Yu took the documents and looked them over. They were all from famous collectors in Hong Kong, including the old man in the long robe in the auction catalog.

"Is Mr. Lin in the trading business?"

"Yes, it's Wing Cheong Trading Company, mainly dealing in imports and exports to Southeast Asia," Lin Wing Cheong said with a smile. "In Hong Kong, everything depends on connections. Since you're new here, don't hesitate to ask if you need anything."

The two chatted for half an hour. Lin Yongchang was very talkative, introducing the rules of Hong Kong's business world and interpersonal relationships, and also reminding them of dangerous places and people they shouldn't offend. Before leaving, he left his business card: "Call me anytime if you need anything, at the company or at home."

After seeing Lin Yongchang off, Chen Yu stood by the window, watching his car drive away, lost in thought. Lin Yongchang's enthusiasm was a bit excessive. Although it was said to be because of Liu Yuhua, was it really just about helping out?

He used his spiritual sense to examine the business card left by Lin Yongchang, but found nothing unusual. Perhaps he was just being paranoid.

As night deepened, Chen Yu sat cross-legged in meditation. The spiritual energy in Hong Kong was indeed different from that on the mainland. Besides the thin earth energy, there was also water-based spiritual energy drifting in from the sea; though weak, it was more varied. He tried circulating the *Tai Xuan Zhen Jing* to absorb and refine it, finding the efficiency slightly higher than on the mainland.

"No wonder ancient cultivators liked to seek out blessed lands and grottoes," Chen Yu thought to himself. "Different spiritual environments do indeed have an impact on cultivation."

After finishing his cultivation, he lay in bed, listening to the faint sounds of cars and people outside the window, unable to fall asleep.

Tomorrow is the preview, and Scarface's team will definitely be there. Liu Zhenbang, Lin Yongchang, Li Guoan... various forces are intertwined, and this auction is rife with undercurrents.

He must find his own path within it.

Outside the window, the lights of Victoria Harbour never went out.

This city that never sleeps is quietly awaiting the arrival of tomorrow.