Xue Han was a man of his word. Three days later, he set off with Tao Mian for the Demon Realm.
After three days of that treatment, Tao Mian was barely recognizable. Dizzy during the day, retching through the night. Fortunately his constitution was decent-otherwise he’d have needed another seven days flat on his back in the Xue estate before he could so much as walk.
Looking at Tao Mian-bloodless, visibly thinner, his arrival clothes now hanging loose on a frame they no longer fit-the heartless Xue Han was quite satisfied. He tapped his folding fan lightly against his palm.
“Not bad. This wilted look is exactly what we need.”
Tao Mian rolled his eyes at him, though even that took effort.
The Soul-Returning Incense was genuinely effective. Apart from his plain, elegant outer robe, there was almost nothing left about Tao Mian that resembled an immortal.
Xue Han told him to change and get rid of that funereal getup.
“This is… ethereal… elegance…”
Tao Mian protested feebly, letting the manor’s maids fuss over him as they dressed him in a set of hibiscus-purple brocade robes.
Xue Han studied his face.
“You don’t have much of a reputation in the Demon Realm, but just to be safe-how about changing your appearance?”
“Don’t know how.”
Tao Mian answered without a shred of shame.
“You don’t even know that? What have you been doing for over a thousand years?” Once out of that room, Xue Han’s tongue turned sharp again. He clapped his hands and had someone bring over a small carved box.
“What’s this?”
“Snow Mud. It alters your features.”
“…It itches when you put it on.”
“…”
This wouldn’t work. That wouldn’t work either.
Xue Han was worn down to the point of surrender.
“Then wear a mask. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than nothing.”
And so Tao Mian ended up wearing a plain, unadorned moon-white mask.
The two boarded a spacious carriage. The driver wore a black bamboo hat that hid his face entirely.
Tao Mian and Xue Han climbed in one after the other.
The interior was roomy. Manager Xue was a man who pursued refinement in all things. This carriage could not only carry passengers-it was fitted for sipping tea, reading, and playing chess on the road.
Only after the little Immortal Tao had recovered roughly half his energy did he begin asking about the arrangements for their trip in detail.
Whenever the subject turned to serious matters, Xue Han could temporarily pass for a normal person.
He explained that the two of them were heading to a venue in the Demon Realm reserved exclusively for trade among the powerful and wealthy-a place called the Thousand Lantern Tower.
The Thousand Lantern Tower had nine floors. Each floor dealt in goods of a different grade and quality. Guests went to the corresponding floor based on what they sought and participated in the Singing Tower.
The so-called Singing Tower worked like this: the attendant conducting the auction stood upon a circular platform at the center of each floor, presenting items to the assembled guests and announcing the opening price. Before each private box hung a row of lotus-shaped colored-glaze lamps, all identical in size. Those who wished to bid lit the lamps-the number of lamps corresponded to the price, and whoever lit the most won the item.
After hearing Xue Han’s explanation, Tao Mian nodded. The Thousand Lantern Tower’s auction rules were straightforward enough.
“The Hengong Fish Fat you need is among the items in the next round of the Singing Tower. The stuff is rare, true, but it can only be used as medicine for one specific ailment, so the guests have little interest in it. I’ve heard this particular piece of Hengong Fish Fat has been sitting in the Thousand Lantern Tower for over two months with no takers. I made some discreet inquiries with the tower’s manager, and his answer was-‘If you want it, it’s as good as yours.'”
Xue Han narrated at an unhurried pace. Throughout, Tao Mian said nothing.
It was only when he heard the phrase “as good as yours” that his chewing slowed.
“What is it? Got a bad feeling?”
Xue Han, sharp as ever, caught the subtle change.
Tao Mian wanted to say that he had a distinct feeling Xue Han’s little speech just now had planted several flags squarely on both their backs.
But he didn’t put it so bluntly.
“Best to err on the side of caution.”
The Thousand Lantern Tower stood in the southwestern reaches of the Demon Realm, in a small city called Moon Hill. Moon Hill was not large, but it was remarkably prosperous-a place built entirely for the denizens of the Demon Realm to indulge and amuse themselves. There was no daylight here, only endless nights of decadence.
As the carriage crossed the boundary between the mortal world and the Demon Realm, the two docile, well-muscled horses suddenly shed their flesh. Only two frames of stark white bone remained, rearing their skulls to let out shrill, piercing neighs. The driver cracked his whip, and the rushing wind caught the black gauze of his bamboo hat, revealing a side of his face charred black as though scorched by fire. Where his eyes should have been, there were only hollow, empty sockets.
Inside the carriage, Tao Mian frowned. The Soul-Returning Incense could mask his aura, but his sensitivity to demonic energy hadn’t diminished in the slightest. The discomfort was immediate.
Xue Han handed him a sachet and told him to tuck it against his skin beneath his clothes. He’d clearly come prepared.
Their destination was clear, so they took the most direct route and arrived at the Thousand Lantern Tower in Moon Hill in short order.
Xue Han told Tao Mian to fasten his mask properly, and reminded him to speak as little as possible once inside-stay behind him, don’t wander off.
Tao Mian’s cover this time was that of Manager Xue’s attendant.
The two stepped down from the carriage. Through the eyeholes of his mask, Tao Mian took in the towering opulence of the Thousand Lantern Tower.
A thousand lanterns lit the azure clouds; the soaring tower teemed with guests.
The sounds of strings and pipes filled his ears. A dark, sweet fragrance drifted on the air, and silhouettes moved in layered shadows.
If not for the bizarre appearances of the “people” around him-some extraordinarily large and powerfully built, others short and rail-thin, sporting every variety of ear and tail imaginable-Tao Mian might have thought he’d stumbled into some thriving mortal capital.
The “child” was peculiar. The skin visible on his body was creased with wrinkles, clearly not young at all. Yet perched on his head was something resembling the oversized “Big Head Doll” masks worn by street performers during New Year parades-glossy, bearing a stiff, painted-on smile.
Tao Mian narrowed his eyes for a closer look and realized it probably wasn’t just a mask. The eyebrows and eyelids twitched with small, subtle movements.
Perhaps some manner of demon native to the Demon Realm.
The Big Head Doll bowed and beamed at every arriving guest, warmly ushering them up the tower. His oversized head seemed to obstruct his line of sight somewhat-he had to turn his entire body around before his eyes could fix on anyone.
When he turned, he spotted Xue Han and Tao Mian beside the carriage.
“Aiyo-Manager Xue! What an honor, what an honor!”
The Big Head Doll wobbled his enormous head as he bustled over, rubbing his hands together, beaming up at Xue Han.
Up close, Tao Mian realized the sheer visual impact of that head was no small thing. It looked too much like a human face-and yet was clearly nothing of the sort.
Xue Han replied with easy familiarity.
“Manager Meng, how’s business been?”
Manager Meng bowed again and again, mouth running with pleasantries.
“Oh, you flatter me, you flatter me. It’s all thanks to the patronage of distinguished guests like Manager Xue…”
His head swiveled to the left, eyes landing on the silent Tao Mian.
“And this one is…”
Xue Han shifted half a step forward, instinctively blocking the line of sight.
“Just an attendant. Pay him no mind.”
“Ah-of course, of course.”
Manager Meng looked as though he wanted to say something more but swallowed it, as if he’d sensed something off yet thought better of pressing.
He held his tongue, but someone else was happy to speak up.
“Whenever Manager Xue visited the Singing Tower before, he always had lovely ladies on his arm. What’s changed today?”
A young man’s voice rang out from behind them, laced with something between provocation and spite.
Tao Mian frowned and turned. A tall youth in splendid robes stood a short distance away, hands clasped behind his back, smiling at him.
“Oh, and wearing a mask, no less. How mysterious. One can’t ascend the tower without showing one’s identity-Manager Meng, I haven’t misremembered the rules of the Thousand Lantern Tower, have I?”
“Well…”
Manager Meng wrung his hands. If that oversized head of his could sweat, he’d have been drenched.
The young man’s smile deepened.
“Rules are rules. Manager Xue-have the person beside you remove the mask.”