The fishy smell from the eaves shattered into powder, and the stench in the wind quickly dissipated.
I stood still, my fingers still resting on the knot of the Cloth Strip. The Broken Chain against my chest vibrated even more urgently than before, as if urging me on. I couldn't wait any longer. Situ Mo's Demonic Power Mark had already seeped into my Meridians; the Herb Ash couldn't suppress it, and the charcoal powder wouldn't hold for long. The image of the Star Disk I saw in the Library Pavilion last night was still spinning in my mind, the Silver-Haired Youth's face becoming clearer and clearer, but I couldn't afford to think about that now.
I must survive these Three Days first.
Two clappers sounded from the depths of the Alley; the Black Market morning session was closing. I pulled at my collar, tucked the Broken Chain deep inside my inner garment, and walked along the wall toward the West Side. The dark alley west of the Academy connected to the Scrap Market, where there was a rouge shop. The proprietress wore a black cloth over her Left Eye; three years ago, I traded half a scrap Crystal Chip for a packet of styptic powder from her. She never spoke unnecessary words, nor did she ask about origins; she was one of the few people who wouldn't stare at me too much.
On the way, I encountered two groups of Patrol personnel. They were all dressed in common short outfits, but their cuffs were embroidered with Dark Red Flame Patterns. There were more members of the Yin Fire Gang than usual. I stuck close to the wall. The Broken Chain lightly tapped the Brick Crevice three times, and the Pendant's residual sensation trembled slightly—no one was to the left. I turned the corner, my foot stepping into wet mud, causing me to slip. I braced myself against the wall to steady myself. My palm brushed against an engraving, an "X" scratched as if by a fingernail. This was an old Mark, one I left when escaping three years ago, meaning "informant ahead."
I took a detour into the back alley.
The rouge shop door wasn't fully closed, a hint of orange-red light seeping through the gap. I pushed the door open, and the Bronze Bell chimed softly. The proprietress sat behind the counter, sewing something, her needle and thread moving swiftly between her fingers. She didn't look up, only saying, "The Instructor's rouge hasn't arrived yet."
I stopped, pulled a small piece of grayish-green Crystal Chip from my sleeve, and placed it on the counter. "I'm not here for rouge. I need the Yin Yang Disguise Technique."
Her hand paused, and the tip of her needle picked up a strand of Red Thread, which she bit off lightly, severing the end. Only then did she look up at me. The socket covered by the black cloth was deeply sunken, but her other eye was astonishingly bright.
"That book was burned long ago," she said, her voice very low. "Only half a Fragmentary Scroll remains, and no one dares touch it."
"I dare."
She stared at me for two breaths, then suddenly reached out and pulled a thin booklet from under the counter. The pages were yellowed, the edges scorched black, as if snatched from a fire. Four characters were scrawled crookedly on the cover: Yin Yang Disguise Technique.
I reached out to take it.
She didn't let go. "This Technique has a severe Backlash; mild cases result in loss of voice, severe cases result in soul shattering. You already have Demonic Power entwined in your Meridians; touching something like this again means you won't last Three Days."
I didn't reply. She released her grip.
I opened the first page. The writing was incomplete, but one line was written clearly: "Yin Yang Reverse Journey, Spiritual Root self-devouring. Only Pure Yang Closeness can temporarily sustain it." My finger paused, and my Heartbeat quickened by one beat.
Just then, Footsteps approached outside the door.
Three people; their steps were heavy, causing a tremor upon landing. They weren't Night Patrol. I closed the Fragmentary Scroll and tucked it into my chest, about to retreat, when the proprietress suddenly closed her eyes and moved her lips slightly, as if reciting something. She made no sound, but I understood lip-reading—she was saying: "Go quickly."
The moment the door was kicked open, I flung the rouge box in my hand.
The box hit the threshold and exploded, sending up a mist of powder that ignited upon contact with the air, emitting a faint purple smoke. The leading thug rushed in, kicked over a stool, and raised his hand to swing his saber. The smoke drifted into his nostrils; his movement stalled, his gaze became vacant, and the saber in his hand clattered to the floor. The second person clutched his face and retreated, cursing something, but the third person wasn't affected. He drew his Chains in return and flung them out with a *clatter*, aiming straight for my chest.
I jumped back, hitting a shelf with my back, causing several bottles of rouge to crash down. The Chain grazed past my neck, hooking onto a wall nail and pulling taut. The person yanked hard, the wall nail loosened, and the shelf swayed. I took the opportunity to grab a bottle of red oil and splash it onto the Chain. As the oil coated the Chain, I flicked my fingertip, igniting a tinder, and the flame traveled along the Chain.
The person cried out and let go.
The fire spread, burning his sleeve. He jumped away, batting at it, and I took the chance to rush toward the door. The proprietress remained seated behind the counter, unmoving. I glanced back at her, and she gave me an extremely slight nod.
Just as I stepped over the threshold, roof tiles suddenly shattered overhead.
A silver-white Sword Qi cleaved down, striking the two thugs squarely on the shoulder blades, pinning them to the beam, unable to move. As the third thug turned, the Sword Tip had already hooked his wrist; the Chains snapped, and he fell to the ground. He looked up, saw who it was, and his face instantly turned pale.
Lu Jiuxuan landed inside the room. His Battle Robe was unstained, and his sword remained sheathed; he subdued the enemies using only Sword Qi. He didn't even look at the three men, walking straight up to me, his voice cold: "My Study Boy is not for you to discipline."
I stood still.
He frowned: "You went to the Black Market again? Still messing around when the Gender Swap Technique is unstable?"
He reached out to check my Spiritual Meridian. I sidestepped to avoid him. The cuff of my sleeve tightened, and Herb Ash rained down. The skin underneath burned—that Purple Mark was moving again, crawling along my Bloodline toward my Heart Area.
"I am looking for a way to last Three Days," I said, lowering my head to adjust my sleeve and re-wrapping the Broken Chain tightly. "You saved me once; can you save me for a lifetime?"
He remained silent.
I pulled out a corner of the Fragmentary Scroll from my chest and read that line under the moonlight: "Yin Yang Reverse Journey, Spiritual Root self-devouring. Only Pure Yang Closeness can temporarily sustain it."
As the words fell, the room fell silent for a moment.
Lu Jiuxuan's expression changed. He stared at that line, then looked at me, his gaze lingering on my sleeve. I knew what he was thinking. Pure Yang Closeness—it wasn't simple proximity; it was the merging of Spiritual Power, the harmony of breath. Once this was done, the disguise of the Gender Swap Technique would be completely shaken, and the Backlash might erupt prematurely.
But if I didn't do it, within Three Days, the reverse flow of the Spiritual Meridian would tear apart my Divine Soul.
"You know exactly what that means," his voice lowered slightly.
"I know," I closed the Fragmentary Scroll, clutching it tightly. "So I'm not asking you; I'm telling you."
He stared at me for a long time, then suddenly raised his hand, untied the Outer Robe from his waist, and draped it over my shoulders. "Go back."
I didn't refuse.
He walked ahead, his sword always in his hand. I followed behind, the Broken Chain pressing against my chest, vibrating hotly. Clapper sounds came from outside the alley; it was the second watch. Lights were on in the direction of the Academy, as if someone was waiting.
At the fork, he stopped. "Don't wander around tomorrow."
"If I don't wander around, will the problems solve themselves?"
He didn't answer.
I took two steps forward, and the wind lifted the corner of my robe, revealing a corner of the Fragmentary Scroll sticking out of my chest. He suddenly reached out and pressed down on that page.
"If it truly comes to that step..." His voice was very soft, "Don't bear it alone."
I didn't look back.
He released his hand.
I continued walking forward without stopping. At the end of the alley was an old locust tree. A piece of bark had peeled off, and beneath it was carved a crooked "Ye." I carved it three years ago, back when I wasn't called Ye Zhen, and no one knew me.
Now, some people chase me, some help me, and some want to kill me.
I touched the Outer Robe on my shoulder. The fabric was thick, carrying a faint cool fragrance, like a pine forest after snow. Lu Jiuxuan's clothes were never scented; this smell came from the Battle Robe itself.
I quickened my pace.
By the time I returned to the Academy's perimeter, the Purple Mark on my sleeve had burned up past my wrist. The skin was red, as if seared by a Branding Iron. I unwrapped the Cloth Strip; the Broken Chain was scalding hot. Although the Pendant was gone, the remaining chain was still vibrating, as if responding to something.
I climbed over the wall and entered. My knees buckled when I landed, and I had to lean against the wall to stand steady.
The door to the Pharmacology Hall was ajar. I pushed it open, groped in the dark to the cabinet in the corner, and pulled out an old booklet. The cover read: Herb Spiritual Records, which I had borrowed a few days ago. I flipped to a middle page, which noted: "Huitou Qing, born in the Yin soil of a Graveyard, those who revive after death—their roots can neutralize Demonic Aura."
I closed the book and returned it to its place.
Moonlight slanted through the window, illuminating the corner of the desk. An empty Small Porcelain Bottle sat there, one I had used yesterday. A bit of brown Medicinal Dregs still clung to the bottom. I stared at it for two seconds, then suddenly reached out, turned the bottle upside down, and tapped it gently three times.
Three small black seeds rolled out into my palm.
This wasn't Medicinal Dregs.
They were Huitou Qing seeds.
I had tried planting them once; they didn't live. But these three seeds clearly looked freshly picked, carrying the scent of damp earth.
Who put them here?
I clenched the seeds and looked up toward the window. The night was deep, and the shadows of the trees were still.