The vermilion gate of Liu Shiyu’s residence was slowly opened from within.
Yunyang stepped out first, his demeanor tinged with arrogance: “The evidence is here. I’ll send it to the capital by eight-hundred-li express for the Emperor to judge!”
Liu Mingxian, astride his warhorse, his expression under the filial hat flickering in the torchlight.
He stared at the stack of evidence in Yunyang’s hands, veins pulsing on his forehead. He hadn’t expected Yunyang and Jiaotu to actually find evidence. To seek vengeance for Old Master Liu now lacked any justifiable ground.
But something felt off… He looked behind Yunyang, where a masked figure stood, head lowered.
Who was this?
Why masked?
As Liu Mingxian tried to look closer, Yunyang shifted slightly, fully blocking the figure, giving a half-smile: “Lord Liu, not retreating?”
Liu Mingxian remained silent, showing no intent to withdraw.
The tension was palpable, both sides waiting for his word—war or retreat hung on his decision.
Liu Mingxian asked calmly: “Where’s Liang Gou’er?”
A young man holding the reins panicked: “Second Uncle, Liang Mao’er sent word that Liang Gou’er already struck at the eunuch faction and is now sleeping in Red Cloth Lane.”
Liu Mingxian’s face darkened. He eyed the Chief Punishment Division’s Fish-Dragon Guards, swords drawn, and gritted his teeth: “Tell Liang Gou’er to take his broken sword and get out of the Liu family. There’s no place for him!”
Yet he still didn’t relent, urging his horse forward, leading hundreds of Liu family members to press closer.
Lin Chaoqing spoke: “Lord Liu, don’t doom your entire family. Wait for Chancellor Liu to return to Luocheng and consult him before acting.”
Liu Mingxian stared at Lin Chaoqing, then bowed from a distance: “I’ll await judgment at home. Back to the mansion! Prepare Old Master Liu’s funeral!”
As he left, he couldn’t resist glancing back, seeing Lin Chaoqing whispering to the masked figure.
“Investigate that masked man!” Liu Mingxian’s tone was ferocious. “Yunyang and Jiaotu are deadly killers, but I’ve never heard they’re skilled at finding evidence. That masked man must’ve been key. Find him!”
“Understood, Second Uncle.”
In a fleeting moment, Liu Mingxian felt: without that masked man tonight, things might’ve been different.
After the Liu family left, Lin Chaoqing mounted his horse, adjusting his raincoat and looking down at me, Chen Ji: “Young man, my offer stands for two months. Maybe sooner, you’ll see what kind of people the Secret Spy Division holds.”
Yunyang’s face darkened: “Who’re you mocking? What does your Chief Punishment Division do besides attacking colleagues?”
Lin Chaoqing silently led his division east, his dark raincoat like folded black wings, coming and going in dust.
As they rode off, a Fish-Dragon Guard smiled at me from under his hat—they respected skill.
But I was destined not to join the Chief Punishment Division. I didn’t want a title or to serve imperial power.
I wanted to cultivate, and cultivation needed money—something the Chief Punishment Division couldn’t provide.
As hoofbeats faded, Yunyang glanced at me: “Join the Chief Punishment Division, and you’re every court official’s enemy, a lone minister forever. How many lone ministers end well?”
I replied calmly: “Thank you for the reminder, Lord Yunyang.”
Yunyang asked: “Could other Liu family members be involved?”
I shook my head: “Don’t know.”
Yunyang pressed: “Does the Jing Dynasty have other intelligence methods?”
I shook my head: “Don’t know.”
“Did you hold back again, like at the Zhou residence?”
I said firmly: “No.”
Yunyang laughed, exasperated. This kid wasn’t as honest as he seemed, but he had no leverage. Smiling, he said: “Tomorrow night, someone will deliver fifty taels of silver to Taiping Clinic. We’re done.”
“Wait! Can you advance eight wen?” I asked.
Yunyang, bemused, pulled eight copper coins from his sleeve: “Gone mad for eight wen? Take it as a gift.”
I smiled sincerely: “Thank you. I’ll take my leave.”
Jiaotu felt this was my most genuine smile.
Yunyang said: “Hold on.”
Before I could react, a dagger from his sleeve grazed my ear, a strand of hair falling into his hand: “Now you can go.”
I paused, then left without a word.
As I walked away, Jiaotu said: “Why not recruit him to the Secret Spy Division? Assign him to us—we’d use him freely without paying fifty taels. That’s enough for years of fine clothes!”
“No,” Yunyang refused. “This kid’s ruthless to others and himself, and smart—the Inner Minister’s favorite type. If he joins, he might outrank us soon.”
“But the Twelve Zodiacs have no openings,” Jiaotu said.
Yunyang whispered: “I heard Sick Tiger’s retiring… I was foolish to think he could replace him.”
Jiaotu added: “We need to confirm he’s not a Jing Dynasty spy before we can trust him.”
Yunyang said calmly: “I’ve planned for that. Last night, I sent a pigeon to Dream Rooster in Kaifeng. He’ll arrive in Luocheng soon—his interrogation ensures certainty.”
“What’s the cost for Dream Rooster?”
“A steep one… Let’s go, it’s late.”
In a blink, the bustling gate was left with only leaves swaying in the autumn breeze.
Like everyone’s fated destiny, after clamor and feasts, only desolation and emptiness remain.
…
…
I walked through a dark alley. As I went, a small, fluffy black cat appeared on the wall, holding a book and a ginseng root in its mouth.
I walked below, it followed above, our shadows under the moonlight moving in sync, as if sharing an unspoken rhythm.
Dark Cloud released its grip, the book and ginseng falling.
I silently caught them midair. The icy current surged, turning half the ginseng into four transparent beads.
I tucked the book and remaining ginseng into my robe, tossing the beads to the eaves. Dark Cloud caught each precisely in its mouth as it walked.
Our movements flowed like a rehearsed dance. A warm current from Dark Cloud ignited the fourth furnace by my dantian!
Instantly, faint flames from the four furnaces linked like a chain, forming a complete cage, sealing my dantian entirely.
The furnaces seemed bound by fate. As they connected, a massive warm current washed through my flesh and bones, erasing the night’s fatigue.
I looked up, silently pointing Dark Cloud in a direction.
At a T-junction, we split—one forward, one left.
The next moment, I sprinted!
Soon, rapid footsteps echoed from the mist dozens of paces behind—a blurry figure closing in.
I weaved through the dark, trying to lose them in Luocheng’s maze-like streets.
But the pursuer always chose the right path at forks. I could hear their breathing behind me.
No good—I couldn’t outrun them.
Their steps grew closer. I judged their speed surpassed mine, at least Secret Spy level.
I knew someone would track or kill me, so I’d used the ginseng meant to cover the clinic’s loss to convert the icy current without hesitation.
You have to live for anything to matter.
Since arriving, it was like a hell-mode start. Even hiding in the clinic, dangers came knocking.
If life was meant to be this way, I chose not to run.
The footsteps were close now, my gaze calm.
When only three paces separated us, I spun, charging at them.
The narrow alley barely fit two side by side, flanked by high walls and uneven stone paths.
The pursuer didn’t expect the prey to fight back. He reached for his sword, but before he drew it, I pinned his wrist.
The assassin’s strength should’ve outmatched mine, but our collision’s momentum gave my grip the edge.
Clang—the sword, half-drawn, was forced back!
In the dim moonlight, the middle-aged assassin’s pupils shrank. He looked at me, finding me staring back.
This wasn’t a prey’s gaze.
He pulled back, kicking my chest, sending me tumbling.
He drew again, but halfway, I rolled and lunged low without pause.
Clang—the sword was forced back again.
Twice, he couldn’t draw his blade!
He sneered, abandoning the sword, pummeling my chest with fists.
To him, I was wide open, full of flaws, with no fighting experience.
But looking at me, he saw no fear or pain—only excitement, my eyes like fire.
I realized cultivators in this world were rare, hidden in the shadows, rarely appearing.
Otherwise, whoever wanted me dead wouldn’t send this “ordinary” man.
Compared to Lin Chaoqing or Yunyang, this assassin was indeed ordinary!
Taking fist after fist, I lunged again, crashing into him, clamping his arms under my armpits.
Now!
A black shadow shot from the eaves. The assassin turned, expecting an ambush, but saw only a small black cat.
Before he could relax, the cat passed him.
As they crossed, Dark Cloud’s sharp claws slashed his neck.
Hiss.
Blood sprayed the wall.
I released him, panting, sitting on the ground, coldly watching him clutch his neck in disbelief, sliding down the wall.
The assassin saw the cat leap into my arms and rasped: “Enforcer?”
I frowned. Enforcer? Was that this world’s term for cultivators?