Cha!
On the gray-yellow mountain path, dust and gravel burst into the air as hooves thundered past. An athletic horse tore down the narrow trail, each stride leaving a whip of wind that flattened the wild grass along its edges.
Sweat streamed down the back of the masked rider in black. Green veins pulsed on his forehead, and his robes clung soaked to his skin.
“Hit!” A rough growl shattered the wind.
A black stone shot out from the roadside like a bolt and smashed into his left shoulder.
With a heavy thud, the rider was thrown off his galloping horse.
“Neigh—!” The frightened animal reared, then fled down the path, abandoning its fallen rider as he struggled to rise.
Bam!
A booted foot crashed down on his shoulder, pinning him to the dirt once more.
“A footman from Ashoka Manor. Oh my, it’s actually a Black Robe Guard messenger!” A bald monk in filthy, tattered robes burst out from the bushes. He grabbed the rider with practiced ease, hoisting him up before dragging razor-sharp fingernails across the man’s forearm. Cloth and skin split open, revealing a small yellow parchment.
“Who… who on earth are you!?” Thrown from a speeding horse and battered against rocks, the messenger was already dying. Blood streamed from his lips, his vision dimming, yet rage kept his voice alive.
“We? After so many encounters, haven’t you lot figured it out?” The monk laughed, fat jiggling beneath grease-stained robes. Without sparing the rider another glance, he unrolled the parchment.
“Let this Buddha see what intelligence we have here. ‘Zhen Family has fled… Northern Lands in chaos… Shangyang Family has stationed itself here…’”
The rider’s eyes widened. “You’re the remnant scum of Yun Province!”
SPLAT!
The fat monk stomped down on his chest, crushing bone and life in a single motion.
“Master!” Several figures appeared along the cliffside. Spotting the scene, they rushed forward at once.
The man at the front possessed a refined, handsome face. His striking eyes and fair, unblemished skin marked him unmistakably as a young master born to privilege—an image at odds with the coarse linen robes he wore.
“You’re here, Young Master Li! Heh, I captured a messenger from Ashoka Manor by coincidence. I thought we’d get something valuable, but it’s just random news irrelevant to us.” The fat monk casually tossed the yellow parchment to the newly arrived group.
The young master addressed was none other than Li Shunxi—the same Li Shunxi who had recently left Mountain-Edge City and wandered the treacherous stretch between the Northern Lands and the Central Plains. Flanking him were the notoriously unattractive Liu Family sisters.
The lands between North and Central were perilous: mountains, forests, plains, and thick jungle sprawled endlessly, each hiding dangers both human and supernatural. By sheer luck and quick wits, Li Shunxi had survived several deadly encounters. At other times, he owed his life to crossing paths with the unfortunate Liu sisters.
Bound by a shared hatred for Duke Ashoka, the three had decided to journey together. One night, while seeking shelter in a dilapidated temple, they stumbled upon this fat-headed, big-eared monk who called himself Master Pure.
“Master Pure acts too prematurely. If we had kept him alive, we might’ve learned Duke Ashoka’s next move,” Li Shunxi said with a faint, regretful smile.
“We’ve fought Ashoka Mansion long enough; whatever needs knowing, we already know. All you and the Liu girls need to do is follow this monk. Once we reach our destination, you’ll understand. Duke Ashoka has committed too many sins—there are plenty who want justice.” Master Pure chuckled, his belly shaking beneath his greasy robes.
“But our strength is so insignificant. What difference would joining your faction even make?” Li Shunxi asked helplessly.
“Not so. Look how deeply the Liu girl trusts you… Some matters aren’t clear to you yet—but given time, you’ll understand.” Master Pure cast a knowing glance at the Liu sisters standing behind Li Shunxi.
The younger of the Liu sisters lowered her head shyly, while her elder sister let out a cold huff and shot her a glare filled with deep resentment. If not for her sister’s foolish infatuation with Li Shunxi, why would she have ever embedded half of their family’s most precious treasure into his body? By the time she discovered it, the deed had already been done.
“Alright, let’s keep moving. Ashoka Manor’s experts should be closing in. We must reach our destination quickly,” the fat monk urged, impatience rumbling in his voice.
“Very well. If the day comes when I truly avenge my family, I will never forget your guidance today, Master,” Li Shunxi said, bowing respectfully.
“Let’s go, let’s go, no dawdling!” Master Pure brushed aside the bow entirely, waving his sleeves as he waddled forward.
Li Shunxi let out a quiet chuckle and glanced back at the Liu sisters.
“Shall we, ladies?”
“Mm.” Liu Caiyun answered softly, her cheeks tinged red.
Liu Qin, bristling with anger, folded her arms across her chest and strode past Li Shunxi without a word, following after the fat monk with heavy, irritable steps.
…………
In the Tang Ancestral Ninth Year of the Song Dynasty, the long, bitter war between the Zhen Family and the Scarlet District in the Northern Lands finally came to an end. With the Noble Family’s withdrawal, the region was left barren—its once-suppressed ghosts now festering without restraint.
Without the stabilizing force of a Divine Weapon, safe passage through the Northern Lands could no longer be guaranteed. Trade collapsed. Mountains of unsold leather and fur piled up, unable to leave the borders. Imported grain dwindled to a trickle, gradually plunging the land into a slow but certain food crisis. Prices of daily necessities soared. Life for the common folk withered into hardship.
Mountain-Edge City, Golden Light Pagoda.
At the summit of the nine-storied tower, Lu Sheng stood in white robes that fluttered in the wind. He gazed out from the overlook, his eyes sweeping across the vast city below. From this height, Mountain-Edge City resembled a sprawling basin of red-tiled roofs, interrupted only by the occasional pagoda, monument, or watchtower jutting up like lonely spikes.
“If the famine continues unchecked, I fear it may soon spiral out of control…” Lu Sheng murmured, a frown creasing his brow.
Inside the hall behind him, Hong Mingzi sat before a spread of dishes, eating slowly with chopsticks in hand.
“Gangsters and ruffians are appearing everywhere, and cases of theft and robbery are rising. But that’s the yamen’s responsibility. We only need to handle our part.”
Lu Sheng nodded, then turned back toward him. “The Shangyang Family doesn’t seem very concerned about the Northern Lands. Since Shangyang Jiuli was stationed here, I’ve only seen her once—when Scarlet District retreated two months ago. Since then, she’s been buried in solitary training.”
He added, “It’s both good and bad. Good, because we don’t have to worry about yielding our authority to her. Bad, because her presence makes little difference unless the matter is truly dire.”
“Isn’t that even better?” Hong Mingzi replied lightly. “This way, our Crimson Whale Sect can practically hold the entire Northern Lands in our hands.”
“With businesses shrinking and the economy collapsing, our gains from controlling the entire region aren’t even what they used to be. What’s the point?” Lu Sheng shook his head. “Senior Apprentice Brother, it seems you’ve truly let go of everything since stepping down.”
“It’s not that I’ve let go. We’re simply at our limit. Without a local Noble Family like the Zhen to suppress the supernatural, the most the Shangyang Family can do is keep Crimson Whale Sect functioning. But the ghosts—festering, multiplying—won’t stop just because we want them to. We’re mortals in the end. There’s only so much we can shoulder.” Hong Mingzi lifted his wine cup and took a soft sip.
“Yes… the Shangyang are still just a Central Plains Noble Family, after all…” Lu Sheng murmured. Ever since Scarlet District withdrew, its District Mistress had vanished completely—leaving the umbrella girl as his most troublesome adversary in the Northern Lands.
After Shangyang Jiuli’s visit to Scarlet District a month earlier, Lu Sheng had tried to contact Zhuo Wenyu to acquire more Yin Qi items. But she had disappeared, as if swallowed by the earth. Perhaps Scarlet District had discovered her. Or perhaps she had abandoned their deal after witnessing his rising position and exposure.
Thus, the small cauldron remained in Lu Sheng’s hands. He had studied it for some time, yet learned nothing. In the end, he tossed it into his secret chest and left it alone.
But with Zhuo Wenyu’s disappearance, his supply of Yin Qi was entirely cut off.
“Oh right, Senior Apprentice Brother, have you found anything regarding my request?” Lu Sheng asked suddenly.
“About the antiques… I did discover a few shops, but they’re the same kinds you’ve already visited. I doubt there’s anything there that will interest you.” Hong Mingzi shook his head.
Lu Sheng had openly declared himself an antique collector, even hosting an Antiques Valuation Meeting not long ago—yet nothing useful had surfaced.
“Indeed…” He exhaled softly, feeling the inefficiency of his scattered, blind search.
“News!” A disciple in athletic robes sprinted up the staircase and dropped to one knee.
“Reporting to the Sect Master: Squire Xiao Hongye is hosting a banquet and has sent an invitation.”
“Xiao Hongye?” Lu Sheng raised an eyebrow. The grand steward of Duke Ashoka suddenly hosting a banquet—out of nowhere—could hardly be simple.
“Hand it over.”
The disciple stepped forward with both hands and respectfully presented the invitation. Lu Sheng unfolded it. The contents were vague, outlining only that an important matter awaited his presence at the banquet.
He closed it slowly, sinking into thought.
“I’ll visit him tonight. Ashoka Manor… a faction caught between Noble Families, ghosts, and the mortal world. They’ve always invited me to direct meetings before. This is the first time they’ve called me to a banquet. I want to see what Steward Xiao Hongye is planning.”
Since assuming full command of Crimson Whale Sect, Lu Sheng had frequently interacted with both Taoist Bai Feng and Xiao Hongye. Some matters—complex and thorny—required the three of them to decide collectively. Those were the so-called “meetings.”
“As long as you know what you’re doing, Junior Apprentice Brother.” Hong Mingzi nodded.
Lu Sheng returned the nod. They remained atop the pagoda for a while longer as Lu Sheng handled a few sect matters. When noon approached, he finally descended and made his way home.
The sun hung high, bathing the city in warm seasonal light.
The Lu Family had firmly rooted themselves in Mountain-Edge City. Following Lu Sheng’s earlier advice, Lu Quanan had stocked up on grain—an investment now turning into their first great fortune and the foundation for rebuilding their family estate. With these earnings, they had opened several shops and begun laying the groundwork for a medicine business.
Fortunately, the Northern Lands still held vast stores of medicinal herbs. With almost none of them able to leave the region, their prices had crashed. The Lu Family seized the opportunity and bought them in bulk. At the same time, Crimson Whale Sect required large quantities of herbs, and Lu Sheng quietly directed some of that business toward his family. With these advantages, the Lu Family’s growth quickly took shape.
After a short ride through the city streets, Lu Sheng reached the gates of Lu Manor.
A servant hurried forward the moment he arrived.
“Eldest Young Master, you’ve returned!”
“Where is the Family Head?” Lu Sheng asked as he stepped down from his horse.
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