The desolate mountain, outside the Enchantment Maze.
Xu Yanxing stared at the array he had sealed shut, his expression rigid. His scheme had both succeeded and failed. He had indeed contrived for his wife and another man to enter the array, but the man who went in was not the one he had carefully chosen beforehand.
He had prided himself on flawless calculations, leaving no detail overlooked—yet still, fate had mocked him. Just as he had been born the most gifted child of the Xu clan, only to arrive a quarter of an hour later than his elder brother, relegated to the status of second son. In a venerable family that strictly upheld the ancestral system of succession, he was forever a step beneath others. He had fought bitterly to seize the position of clan head, only to lose the ability to sire heirs.
But so what? My fate is mine, not Heaven’s. If Heaven were unjust, he would wrestle against it himself. Now Heaven had played another cruel joke, as though deliberately making sport of him.
Xu Yanxing gazed at the three secret locks and let out a bitter laugh. He had prepared them as a precaution, locks designed solely to seal the array. Once fastened, they completely closed off the array’s life gate. He had cut off the way out for those inside—and severed his own retreat as well. Standing beside the array, his heart was a tangle of emotions. But suddenly his eyes darkened.
Moments ago, his agitation had been too great, his mood swinging wildly, and he had failed to notice. Now that he calmed himself, he realized: beyond the three secret locks he had set, someone else had cast a spell upon the array. From the faint traces of the incantation, he realized its effect was identical to his own three locks. This meant that, besides him, someone else also did not want those inside the array to come out.
Realizing this, Xu Yanxing felt his scalp prickle. He was desperate to know—who exactly was that wild man now trapped in the array with his wife? And who was the one who had laid the spell upon the array?
That night yielded little gain. Pei Ling and Pei Jun descended together from the desolate mountain, returning side by side toward Imperial City Mountain.
The Pei clan’s rules were strict: every morning at the hour of the hare, disciples were checked and accounted for. Laziness was forbidden; they were required to rise early and train on time. The clan had many such harsh regulations. Though disciples often grumbled in secret, none dared voice dissent.
The clan head’s authority was formidable, and he was harsher on himself than on others. No man is perfect—but he was the exception. Every word and deed of his was taken as a model by the sect, leaving no flaw for others to criticize.
Because the two had snuck out the previous night, they had to return before the morning inspection at the hour of the hare. At first, they calculated that there was still time; flying back on their swords should have allowed them to arrive just in time. But Heaven did not cooperate—rain suddenly began to fall.
Dark clouds thickened overhead, the rain grew heavier, and the path ahead turned gray and hazy. Flying on swords was no longer safe, so they had to give up.
Now they were certain to be late returning to Imperial City Mountain. So the two slowed their pace and strolled leisurely. Eventually they reached a small town at the foot of a mountain. At the town’s entrance stood a teahouse, and they decided to sit down, drink some tea, and rest awhile.
Many people were already sheltering from the rain inside. Just as the two were about to find an empty table, they suddenly spotted a familiar figure seated within.
The man wore white robes with a blue outer garment, a jade pendant at his waist, and held a jade-bone fan. He was dressed, as always, in the carefree style of a refined young noble, lounging casually by the window as he sipped his tea.
This man was none other than the “Senior Xie” Pei Jun had mentioned the night before—the one said to have accompanied their clan head to Luoyang for their late master’s memorial.
Xie Yusheng now also noticed Pei Jun and Pei Ling.
Surprise flickered in both sets of eyes.
This place lay in the opposite direction of the road to Luoyang. By rights, Xie Yusheng should not have been here at all. Pei Jun could not help but ask, “Why are you here?”
Xie Yusheng cast a glance at the two juniors. By rights, they too should have been cultivating at Imperial City Mountain, not appearing here.
“I should be asking you—what are you doing here?”
After a moment of uneasy silence, both sides almost spoke in unison, asking after the same person.
“Where is Uncle?”
“Is your clan head here?”
They looked at one another, faces full of doubt.
Pei Jun asked Xie Yusheng, “Wasn’t Uncle supposed to go to Luoyang with you?”
Xie Yusheng replied, “That was indeed the plan. But just before departure, your uncle said he needed to meet someone and stepped away. He arranged to meet me here at this teahouse once he was finished. I thought he wouldn’t be gone long, but now an entire night has passed and he still hasn’t come. I was just wondering about it myself.”
Pei Jun and Pei Ling, hearing this, felt their suspicions deepen. Their clan head was a man who upheld faith and honor to the point of near stubbornness. The elders often recalled how, years ago, he had agreed upon a time to duel with a fellow disciple. On the way, he was delayed a quarter of an hour because he stopped to save someone. The reason was just, everyone understood, and the delay was brief enough not to affect the duel. No one blamed him.
Yet after the duel, he went of his own accord to accept heavy punishment. In his eyes, setting aside an agreement to save a life was righteousness. But keeping to the appointed time was faith. No matter the reason, a broken promise was still a broken promise. He was always meticulous in conduct, never one to keep others waiting. Since he had agreed to meet Xie Yusheng at the teahouse after finishing his errand, it meant the matter was not difficult—he should have been able to resolve it quickly. To make an appointment and then fail to appear for an entire night—such discourtesy and breach of trust were utterly unlike him.
Something must have gone wrong.
Pei Jun, however, was not overly worried. With his uncle’s cultivation, there were few in the world who could harm him; nothing serious could have happened.
Pei Ling was steadier in temperament and more thoughtful, prone to worry. He felt there was something strange about the matter. After a moment’s thought, he asked Xie Yusheng, “Senior Xie, do you know who our clan head said he was going to meet?”
Xie Yusheng turned his jade fan in his hand and replied, “That I do not know. You should be well aware—your clan head is strict about separating public and private matters. He dislikes prying into others’ affairs, and he does not welcome others meddling in his own.”
Pei Jun frowned at his useless answers, irritation plain on his face.
Xie Yusheng saw Pei Jun’s expression, caught between irritation and helplessness, and gave an awkward laugh. “Why don’t you think carefully—are there any clues? Has your clan head been paying special attention to someone lately, or showing unusual concern for anything? Or perhaps he’s done something out of the ordinary these past few days?”
Pei Jun thought it over. To him, his uncle had neither anyone nor anything he paid particular attention to. Everything was the same as usual—his uncle’s attitude toward all things was always one of indifference.
Pei Ling, after careful recollection, said, “The clan head seems to have been keeping an eye on those two extermination cases in Xunyang these past few days.”
Pei Jun shot him a sideways glance. “And how do you know that?”
Even as his nephew, he had heard nothing of it.
Pei Ling explained, “A few days ago, while tidying the study, I noticed the words ‘Xunyang’ written on some leftover paper the clan head had used. If there’s anything in Xunyang lately worth the attention of the sect, it can only be those two unsolved extermination cases.”
Xie Yusheng nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense.”
The two extermination cases in Xunyang were indeed strange.
At the beginning of last month, the head of the Zhu clan in Xunyang married a new bride and held a grand banquet at his home. Many respected sect families from the surrounding region attended. The Zhu clan head was nearly fifty, while the bride was a young woman barely twenty. Within the sect, people criticized the match in private, but for the sake of social ties and mutual interests, they forced smiles and offered congratulations. The bride herself did not seem coerced, which made it easier to feign goodwill. The wedding feast lasted late into the night. No one expected disaster to strike on such a joyous day.
At midnight, the newlyweds’ residence suddenly erupted in ghostly flames—an eerie blue fire that shot into the sky. The house that had been filled with laughter hours before was now echoing with screams and cries. Thick smoke carried the stench of burning flesh out into the night.
The ghost fire burned so fiercely that by the time nearby sect families rushed over, everyone inside had already been reduced to charred remains.
More than one hundred and thirty members of the household perished, not a single survivor. The courtyard was piled with scorched limbs and bodies. A celebration had turned into a funeral. That was the first case.
Not long after, another sect family in Xunyang—the Jiang clan—met with disaster. It was said the entire household went boating when a swarm of water ghosts suddenly attacked them. None survived; all drowned.
These two exterminations occurred less than a month apart, both in Xunyang, both caused by malicious spirits. It was inevitable that people would link them together. Yet the two families had little contact in daily life. At most, they exchanged gifts during festivals out of courtesy as fellow local sect clans.
The first extermination looked like vengeance. The second seemed more like an accident. For sect members to be hunted by vengeful spirits, or to die unexpectedly at their hands, was not uncommon. But for entire clans to be wiped out—such tragedies were rare.
It could only be said that Xunyang was far from peaceful. Since these calamities, the townsfolk no longer ventured out at night. Even by day, fewer dared to go about their business. Shops selling yellow talisman papers now did better than rice merchants. But truth be told, if even the sect—specialists in exorcising spirits—could do nothing against such cunning, powerful ghosts, then what use were a few scraps of talisman paper? They served only as psychological comfort.
Pei Jun asked, “But what does this have to do with Uncle?”
Pei Ling speculated, “Xunyang is in turmoil, the people are terrified, and sect members live in fear. Since the Pei clan stands foremost among the sect, our clan head would never ignore such matters.”
Pei Jun pressed, “Then what does that have to do with him breaking his appointment?”
Pei Ling shook his head—he did not know.
Xie Yusheng toyed with his fan and gazed out at the curtain of rain. “Let’s wait a little longer. He’ll come.”
The three sat together at a window-side table, waiting. The storm passed, dusk fell, the teahouse emptied—but Pei Su never appeared.
Unable to sit still any longer, they searched nearby, but it was as if he had vanished into thin air. Not a trace remained—not even a strand of hair. Their expressions grew grave.
At last, Pei Jun and Pei Ling conferred and decided to return to Imperial City Mountain, report the matter to the clan elders, and let them decide. Xie Yusheng resolved to accompany them back.
The atmosphere on the road was heavy. Xie Yusheng, unable to bear the gloom, tried to lighten it with a jest: “No need to be so pessimistic. Perhaps he’s found a romantic encounter—lost track of time with a beauty in his arms.”
Pei Jun couldn’t hold back; he glared at him, forgetting even to use honorifics. “Uncle is not you.” He would sooner believe his uncle would choose celibacy than imagine him succumbing to lust.
Xie Yusheng gave a few awkward laughs. He had meant to lift the mood, but instead the air grew even heavier.