The moonlight tonight was too dim. There were several trees planted in the courtyard. Sang Dai and Shen Ciyu hid in the shadows of the trees, their view obstructed, unable to clearly see what the man was doing.
He reached out to touch the osmanthus tree. His movements appeared very gentle, as if he were touching an old friend.
“So many years have passed, and I am the only one who came to fulfill the appointment.”
The man did not stand there long. He was reeking of alcohol, clearly drunk, and turned to head back.
Sang Dai and Shen Ciyu hurriedly shrank deeper into the shadows.
Shen Ciyu accidentally strained his wound. It was unclear what had pierced through it, but the injury kept splitting open, and blood gushed out in a particularly alarming manner.
He said nothing. Shen Ciyu, much like Sang Dai, was a man of few words, enduring as much as he could.
Sang Dai glanced at him, pressed the acupoints around his wound to stop the bleeding, and then handed him a few pills.
Shen Ciyu’s voice was very soft: “Thank you.”
Sang Dai did not reply.
She leapt off the roof and circled around to the rear window. Earlier, the window had not been shut tightly, leaving a small gap.
The drunken man pushed open the door and staggered inside. He made his way to the table, lit the lamp on the desk with a firestarter, though it took him several attempts due to his lack of control from being drunk.
The firelight illuminated his profile—his features were sharp and well-defined, and his appearance was rather good.
Someone came up behind her, still a short distance away. Sang Dai knew who it was and did not turn her head.
The two of them looked at the man inside through the slightly ajar window.
The man half-knelt by the low table, not caring about the dust on its surface, and lay motionless atop it.
At this point, Sang Dai had guessed his identity.
Someone as cautious as Wu Hanshu would never allow others to stay overnight in the City Lord’s residence. This man, who had walked openly through the main entrance and drank himself into such a state, could only be Wu Hanshu himself, given that Wu Hanshu was known for his love of alcohol.
The City Lord of Linglong Town: Wu Hanshu.
Sang Dai tilted her head slightly to observe Wu Hanshu’s hand. Only then did she realize he wasn’t entirely still; he was resting his head on one arm while idly playing with something on the table with his free hand…
Sang Dai squinted slightly, unable to clearly discern what it was.
It seemed like a potted plant, but the flower had not yet bloomed, leaving only a flower bud. Thus, she could not identify the type of flower.
Wu Hanshu gently fiddled with the potted plant.
He murmured softly, “When this flower blooms, it will mark the day the agreement ends.”
After saying this, he fell silent. He was so quiet that even Sang Dai, a cultivator in the Grand Ascension Stage, almost failed to notice his breathing.
Another quarter of an hour passed, and Wu Hanshu’s breathing had become steady.
Without turning her head, Sang Dai said, “Wait here for me. I’ll go in and take a look.”
“Mm,” Shen Ciyu responded softly.
Sang Dai gently pushed open the window and carefully leapt inside.
She could sense the steady rhythm of Wu Hanshu’s breathing and the stable flow of spiritual energy within him; he appeared to be asleep.
Even as Sang Dai approached him, he showed no reaction.
There was a natural barrier between the Nascent Soul Stage and the Grand Completion Stage. With Sang Dai deliberately suppressing her presence, Wu Hanshu likely wouldn’t have noticed her even if he were awake, let alone in his current slumber.
Sang Dai moved to stand before him, using the lamp’s light to examine him.
Wu Hanshu had a face that exuded righteousness and vigor. While not particularly handsome, his features were striking among ordinary people.
Sang Dai’s slender brows knitted slightly. The appearance of a cultivator often remained as it was during the Core Formation Stage. With Wu Hanshu possessing an Earth-Grade spiritual root, he must have been at least forty or fifty years old when he formed his core. Why, then, did he appear so youthful?
She half-squatted in front of Wu Hanshu, tilting her head to observe the flowerpot he was holding in his arms.
The stem was dark green, frail and creeping, as though a mere gust of wind could topple it. Even the flower bud at its tip appeared particularly withered, as if it were on the verge of death. How could such a flower possibly bloom?
A line of small golden characters was inscribed on the flowerpot.
The lettering was too small for Sang Dai to read clearly. She knelt on one knee beside Wu Hanshu, carefully leaning closer to make out the words on the flowerpot.
“Thirteenth year of the Zhengjing Era, planted together in the City Lord’s Residence of Linglong Town.”
The thirteenth year of the Zhengjing Era—that was three hundred years ago.
“Planted together.” With whom?
Before Sang Dai could arrive at an answer, the breathing beside her suddenly grew irregular.
She instinctively raised her hand to strike, only to meet a pair of bleary, unfocused eyes.
Wu Hanshu was still lying sideways on the desk, but at some point, he had woken up.
There had been no sound, not even a change in his breathing rhythm. He simply opened his eyes.
However, he did not appear fully awake. His gaze remained clouded, and though he was looking at Sang Dai, it was as if he were seeing someone else through her.
He slowly raised a hand, as if trying to touch Sang Dai’s cheek.
Sang Dai backed away, and outside the window, Shen Ciyu frowned deeply and made as if to leap inside.
The sword cultivator glanced at him, signaling him not to move.
Sang Dai withdrew her gaze and met Wu Hanshu’s. The City Lord looked nothing like an old man. Sang Dai even thought he appeared younger than Sang Wenzhou.
Wu Hanshu rested his head on his arm, his eyes fixed on Sang Dai’s face, yet without any sense of impropriety.
“So alike,” he murmured.
A cryptic statement shrouded in mist, one that Sang Dai couldn’t understand.
Wu Hanshu propped himself up slightly, raising his head to look at Sang Dai as he said, “The brows and eyes are alike, the figure is alike, even the mannerisms are alike.”
Sang Dai cautiously asked in a low voice, “…Like whom?”
“Like… an old acquaintance… someone I haven’t seen in a long time.”
After saying this, Wu Hanshu lay back down, holding the strange flowerpot as he closed his eyes. His aura became peaceful and calm, and Sang Dai didn’t even need to check his pulse to know he had fallen asleep.
She wondered if he would remember this encounter when he woke up tomorrow. However, Wu Hanshu had likely never seen her face before and didn’t know she was Sang Dai. Tonight, he had only seen her.
Sang Dai leaned over again to take a good look at the flowerpot, committing its appearance to memory.
She carefully began searching the room. Outside, Shen Ciyu waited patiently for her.
The room was covered in dust, seemingly untouched for several months. No one had lived there, nor had it been cleaned. There was hardly anything in the room—just a bed and a desk, with not even a wardrobe. Sang Dai was meticulous, even tapping on every floor tile.
There was nothing unusual here. At least, Sang Dai found nothing.
She glanced once more at Wu Hanshu, who was slumped over the desk in a drunken sleep, then stepped forward and knelt beside him on one knee. Placing her fingertips carefully on his wrist, she directed her spiritual energy to flow through his meridians.
After a long time, she withdrew her hand, turned, and climbed back out the window.
She closed the window and said softly, “Let’s go.”
Shen Ciyu nodded and followed her.
Sang Dai leapt onto the rooftop but did not leave immediately. Instead, she moved to the front courtyard.
She walked to the osmanthus tree where Wu Hanshu had stood earlier.
“It must be several hundred years old,” the young man behind her said.
Sang Dai didn’t turn around. The tree trunk alone revealed the age of this osmanthus tree. It had been carefully tended to and planted in the sunniest spot in the City Lord’s residence. Despite enduring the elements over centuries, it stood tall and robust, growing thick and strong.
As Sang Dai approached, the rich fragrance of osmanthus filled the air. She retrieved a luminous pearl from her qiankun pouch and held it up, moving it along the tree trunk.
Shen Ciyu said nothing, taking out another luminous pearl to examine the opposite side.
When the pearl’s light passed over a certain spot, a groove reflected the glow. Sang Dai held the pearl closer to inspect it.
Shen Ciyu joined her.
The characters were written in black ink, but since the tree trunk itself was a deep shade of black, the words were faint and difficult to discern.
The two of them stared at it for a long time but could not make out what the inscription said.
Sang Dai spoke in a low voice, “It’s likely a name. This osmanthus tree might have been planted by Wu Hanshu and someone else. But after so much time, the inscription has become hard to read.”
Shen Ciyu said, “Yes.”
Sang Dai raised her eyes to look at him.
Shen Ciyu straightened up. “This is what I wanted to tell you earlier.”
Sang Dai put away her luminous pearl and returned it to her qiankun pouch. Her gaze toward Shen Ciyu remained polite yet distant.
“Let’s find another place to talk. Wu Hanshu is inside, and he could wake up at any moment.”
Shen Ciyu nodded. “Alright.”
Sang Dai leapt onto the rooftop and made her way to an artificial hill in the City Lord’s residence, ensuring no one else was nearby.
Shen Ciyu followed after her. The bloodstains on his white robes were too striking—just one glance was enough to make Sang Dai feel a bit unsettled.
She asked politely, “Sect Master Shen, your injury seems quite severe. Shall I help you heal it first?”
Shen Ciyu’s lips tightened slightly, and he moved further into the shadows. “There’s no need to trouble yourself.”
How could he bring himself to let Sang Dai treat his wounds? Even her mere glance made Shen Ciyu feel unworthy of facing her.
“…Alright,” Sang Dai responded.
She had no intention of closing the distance between them. Knowing Shen Ciyu’s feelings, she felt it was even more inappropriate to be overly friendly with him. A courteous, distant relationship was the best choice for everyone.
Shen Ciyu lowered his head slightly, remaining silent for a moment before speaking. “I understand you have other matters to attend to, so I’ll be brief. Wu Hanshu is indeed connected to the disappearances of the rogue cultivators in the city.”
Sang Dai wasn’t particularly surprised. She nodded in acknowledgment. “Yes, we had already suspected as much.”
“I originally came here to repair my state of mind…” Shen Ciyu quickly glanced at Sang Dai, noticing that she showed no strong reaction. Her demeanor remained calm and composed, just like the Sang Dai he had known before.
He smiled bitterly to himself, his voice lowering. “When I arrived at the City Lord’s residence and met Wu Hanshu, I immediately sensed something was wrong. You must have noticed his cultivation level earlier when you checked his pulse, didn’t you?”
Sang Dai nodded. “Yes. His meridians were turbulent, and his cultivation level seemed unstable, as if a massive amount of power had suddenly surged into him.”
“I noticed that too. Before I came, I had heard about the disappearances of rogue cultivators in Linglong Town. The Immortal Alliance received reports suggesting that a high-level demon beast might be involved. It wasn’t until I met Wu Hanshu today that I detected traces of demon energy on him, which made me suspect this connection.”
“Please continue, Sect Master Shen.”
“He invited me to drink with him tonight. I refused, pretended to return to my room to rest, and then followed him. I sneaked in during the guard’s shift change and arrived at a bamboo grove.”
Sang Dai asked, “…A bamboo grove?”
Shen Ciyu nodded. “Yes. I didn’t enter at first because he was inside, and I didn’t dare to. I waited outside for nearly an hour. After he left, I snuck in. There was a stone chamber inside, surrounded by mechanisms. The techniques used were peculiar—I’d never seen anything like them before. The wound on my shoulder happened when I was trying to get through those mechanisms.”
Mechanisms.
Sang Dai’s heart sank. “Even if your mental state has weakened, you are still a cultivator at the peak of the Nascent Soul Stage. Even with your cultivation temporarily at the beginner level, it’s unlikely that a mechanism could harm you. Wu Hanshu is no Qiu Chengqi—”
She stopped mid-sentence, her expression becoming complicated.
Qiu Chengqi often took contracts from the Immortal Realm.
Shen Ciyu lowered his head and said, “The mechanisms were most likely set up by Young Master Qiu. There were eighty-one checkpoints in total. I forced my way through and got injured. I didn’t dare linger and left as soon as possible. On my way out, I encountered guards from the City Lord’s residence, so I hid from them and made my way here to return to my quarters.”
“Did you see anything in the secret chamber?”
“…A painting.”
Sang Dai asked, “What kind of painting?”
Shen Ciyu replied, “A mural of six people standing side by side—two women and four men. Among them were Immortal Lord Ying Heng and Wu Hanshu.”
Sang Dai’s throat felt dry, and her phoenix eyes blinked faintly. Her previously clear mind now felt clouded.
Only Shen Ciyu’s words entered her mind, one clear sentence after another.
“Immortal Lord Ying Heng and Wu Hanshu knew each other. I didn’t recognize the other four people in the mural, but there was an osmanthus tree painted as well. That’s why I believe the osmanthus tree you saw earlier was planted by them together.”
Ying Heng and Wu Hanshu knew each other?
If she thought about it, Ying Heng was over two hundred years younger than Wu Hanshu. Wu Hanshu had already been the City Lord of Linglong Town for centuries. Sang Dai didn’t know how many times Ying Heng had visited Linglong Town. She had only spent a mere ten years with Ying Heng, which was insignificant in his over five hundred years of life.
Shen Ciyu could see her shock. Sang Dai couldn’t hide her emotions at all—whatever she thought in her heart showed plainly on her face.
He said softly, “Sang Dai, this is what I wanted to tell you. Your master, Immortal Lord Ying Heng, is in the mural.”
Sang Dai suddenly raised her gaze, her voice turning cold. “Where is the secret chamber?”
“In the western forest.” Shen Ciyu hesitated, then frowned and tried to dissuade her: “You can’t go. It takes a long time to dismantle the mechanisms there. It’s easy to get hurt, and it might alert the guards.”
Sang Dai took out a jade token and located the voice transmission imprint left by Qiu Chengqi.
The other side picked up quickly. The voice was still sleepy and hazy. “Sister?”