Inside the grand residence at Shangyi Village, craftsmen worked around the clock, hammering and clattering noisily. Wang Daoxuan preferred quiet, and with his soul wounded and needing rest, the Wendao Hall was naturally a better place to stay.
After bidding farewell to Shopkeeper Wan, Li Yan and his companions returned directly to Xianyang.
"Daoist Wang, you're back?"
"Brother Li, if you beat that drum again, I swear I'll report you to the officials!"
The old alley's residents were just as "enthusiastic" as ever.
A trembling old granny fished out a copper key. "What a sin… Those constables busted down your door, Daoist. Even broke the lock. I was worried about thieves, so I locked it up for you."
"Thank you, Granny Liu."
Wang Daoxuan took the key and unlocked the door.
Just as the old woman said, Wendao Hall had been ransacked by the constables—utterly overturned. Some of them, with sticky fingers, even stole the few plum vases that remained.
More importantly, the ancestral altar had been toppled.
Seeing Wang Daoxuan's gloomy face, Sha Lafei quickly forced a smile. "No need to fume, Daoist. Out with the old, in with the new! We've got money now, so rebuilding your hall will be no trouble at all!"
He wasn't wrong.
Though the past few days had been filled with peril, they'd made quite a windfall.
In the bandit fortress, they'd found several gold bars—more than enough for Li Yan and Wang Daoxuan to build their own observation tower, with plenty to spare.
At the ancient tomb in the desolate hills, while Yuan Qu and Zheng Heibei had been broke, Chen Fa's puppet had stashed away a good number of silver notes—all uncovered by Sha Lafei—amounting to around 700 taels, enough to cover their expenses for quite some time.
There were also Yuan Qu and Zheng Heibei's horses.
Luo Mingzi and the others weren't interested in them, so the three claimed them all.
In short, they weren't rich, but they'd no longer have to worry about food or drink.
After tidying up Wendao Hall a bit, night had already fallen. Sha Lafei, who tended to show off when he had money, ran straight to Qingfeng Restaurant and ordered a lavish spread to be delivered to Wendao Hall as a small celebration for surviving their ordeal.
As they ate and drank, they began discussing their next steps.
"In two months, it'll be the Winter Solstice Grand Rite," Wang Daoxuan said with a gentle smile. "All the temples and observatories on Mount Taibai will hold temple fairs then. Pilgrims will come in droves—some even from other provinces."
"To avoid incidents, the spiritual nodes and leyline apertures on Mount Taibai will be sealed off until spring next year."
"If we want to build our observation tower, we must finish before the Winter Solstice."
"Sounds good," Li Yan nodded after a moment of thought. "I promised Senior Wu I'd return his remains to his hometown and rebury his wife and daughter. After that, I'll head to Mount Taibai."
"Also, in a few days, the Tai Xuan Orthodox Sect will hold a ritual at the Mass Grave, to help the mountain god regain his seat. Senior Luo Mingzi said we're welcome to watch."
"Oh?" Wang Daoxuan's eyes lit up. "That's a great opportunity. The Tai Xuan Sect's rituals are second to none—I've always wanted to witness one myself."
After setting their plans, the trio each retired to their rooms for the night.
Perhaps because the burden on their hearts had lifted, they soon fell asleep.
Wang Daoxuan, still soul-injured, and the carefree Sha Lafei both slept like logs.
Only Li Yan tossed and turned. Not long after falling asleep, his eyelids twitched repeatedly, and cold sweat gradually beaded on his forehead.
In a daze, he sat bolt upright—only to find himself still inside Wendao Hall. Yet the surroundings were veiled in a fine mist, everything a blur.
"Daoist Wang? Old Sha?"
Sensing something wrong, Li Yan called out—but there was no response.
He quickly formed the Yang Seal, yet his spell didn't activate.
Am I… under a spell?
Li Yan's heart tensed. He cautiously pushed the door open—and his face instantly changed, a chill creeping over his skin.
There, in the courtyard, stood a figure that hadn't been there before.
Clad in white robes like mourning clothes, the figure was wrapped in chains, stained with blood.
Their head hung low, tangled black hair obscuring the face. Slowly, they raised a pale left hand—and pointed outside the courtyard…
Whoosh!
Li Yan jerked awake, looking around.
He was still in Wendao Hall. From the opposite wing, Sha Lafei's loud snoring was clearly audible across the yard.
"So it was just a nightmare…"
He formed the Yang Seal again, sensing nothing unusual. Finally relieved, he lay back down.
This time, no more nightmares disturbed him.
But unbeknownst to him, the talisman imprint on his left palm was slowly glowing with a faint blue light—eerily visible in the darkness...
Night deepened over the crumbling western streets of Xianyang.
In the shadows, amidst hurried footsteps, two teams of figures emerged at both ends of a narrow alley.
All wore black hats and clothes, wielding long knives and staves. A few carried an iron net with barbed hooks.
This iron net, woven from fine chains and tipped with sharp hooks, was called Ghostbane—crafted to subdue martial artists.
They were all constables of the Xianyang City yamen.
A middle-aged man stepped forward, temples graying and features stern—he was Guan Wanche, Xianyang's chief constable.
He stared at a large residence in the distance, then turned and cupped his hands.
"Sirs, the informant said they're holed up here."
Behind the constables, three more figures stepped forward.
All wore black brocade robes embroidered with silver-threaded beasts—Yazi and Bian—on front and back, official hats on their heads, finely tooled leather bracers on their arms.
Their attire marked them as members of the Commandant Division.
Similar to the Embroidered Guards, they answered only to the Emperor—tasked with intelligence gathering, suppressing rebellion, monitoring officials, and more. With superior martial skills and expert in coordinated attacks, they were feared throughout the martial world.
Leading them was a one-eyed man with a black eyepatch. A long scar ran down his left cheek, giving him a ferocious air.
"Move in!" he ordered.
Two men from the Commandant Division darted toward a nearby wall, their inner force propelling them upward. They leapt onto the wall in silence, bows drawn, arrows notched—the bowstrings groaned as they aimed into the courtyard.
Guan Wanche wasn't surprised.
These two were Sub-Flag Commandants, masters of inner force.
He waved his hand, and the constables charged from side alleys, sealing all exits. One of them kicked the gate open, storming inside.
Despite all the commotion, no one responded from within.
Guan Wanche felt a sense of unease.
Sure enough, a constable soon ran out and cupped his hands. "Sir, they're gone!"
Guan Wanche's face darkened as he led the Commandant Division into the house. They searched every room—empty.
"Lord Chang, this is my failure."
He bowed low.
"No matter," the one-eyed man said calmly. "To have stolen from the Chang'an Prefecture's yamen, they're no ordinary folk. You found their trail so quickly—well done."
He paused, then his eyes narrowed.
He walked to a corner and picked up a stone jar.
Guan Wanche leaned in. "Sir, it's a medicine grinding jar from the apothecary. We could ask the craftsmen—maybe they know something."
The man said nothing. He scraped out some black powder, sniffed it, frowned, then flicked it away.
He glanced around, then said flatly, "Constable Guan, with your talents, Xianyang is too small a stage. Would you consider joining the Commandant Division?"
Guan Wanche's eyes lit up. He cupped his fists deeply.
"I would be honored to serve, my lord!"
In the East City, behind Jinbao Gambling House on Paifang Street—
Fat and short, Shopkeeper Wu peeked nervously from a back alley.
Just then, two figures raced silently along the shadows of the wall—the same pair who'd wreaked havoc on the Zhou family earlier that day.
Delighted, Shopkeeper Wu turned and opened the door.
The pair slipped inside. After ensuring no one followed, he shut the door tight.
He had already sent all the staff home. The three entered a hidden room through a secret passage, where they removed their conical hats.
The white-clad concubine was already waiting. Overjoyed, she bowed deeply with Shopkeeper Wu, forming a blooming lotus gesture.
"Greetings, Incense Master!"
The older man, dressed like a wandering physician, reached to his neck, rubbed lightly—and peeled off a finely crafted human-skin mask.
Beneath was a handsome face—sharp brows and starry eyes, exuding a noble air. Yet a blood-red streak ran through one pupil, and his skin glowed crimson—both traits ominous in face-reading, known as Red Vein Piercing the Eye and Heavenly Net in Ruin, said to foretell early death.
Yet this man seemed quite alive.
"No need for formality," the man said, his voice smooth and magnetic. "We're all brothers in the sect. I merely walked ahead of you. No need for ranks."
"Thank you, Incense Master."
The concubine and Shopkeeper Wu straightened respectfully.
Shopkeeper Wu still looked uneasy. "I heard the Incense Master and Brother Fire Ghost stirred up the Zhou household yesterday. With the Commandant Division dogs catching the scent, I couldn't sleep all night."
"No need to worry." The man smiled. "I've dealt with those dogs many times. I left plenty of false trails to avoid dragging you down."
"Brother Fire Ghost avenged his great grudge. Even if he gets caught—it was worth it."
"Incense Master, it was all my fault," the scar-faced youth said, guilt-ridden. Yet his gaze toward the man brimmed with admiration.
The man didn't mind. "What's the situation in Xianyang now?"
Shopkeeper Wu quickly cupped his hands. "That traitor Chushan sent beggars to search for Miss Wang and Yuan Qu, head of the White Ape Gang. He also has his eyes on my gambling house."
"To protect myself, I spread word that the Mountain Tyrant Chushan is hiding has already been discovered by all sorts of martial artists. Even the Tai Xuan Orthodox Sect plans to go. His lair likely won't survive. Now that the Zhou family is gone, the incense hall is safe for now."
The man's eyes turned cold. "Don't worry. I'll take care of that traitor before I leave."
Then, he turned to the two men, his voice unconsciously urgent—
"The painting—where is it?"
*(End of Chapter)*