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Chapter 72: Uncanny

This time, too, seemed no different.

The sun dipped westward, and twilight began to fall.

Qing’an Ward, a bustling sector of Liang City, remained teeming with life, its streets filled with the endless flow of people.

Knock knock.

The dull sound of knocking stirred not even the faintest ripple in the bustle of the ward.

The young eunuch, now dressed in plain clothes, looked around nervously, glancing left and right as if wary of something unseen.

Even while knocking, he remained on high alert.

Click.

With a heavy sound, the thick door bolt unlatched.

A mural of a mountain scene blocked the entrance, and the narrow side passageways gave the impression of being unnaturally cramped.

The young eunuch dared not linger at the threshold. He quickly slipped inside and carefully bolted the peeling gate behind him before following the left-hand passage toward the inner courtyard.

The inner courtyard was desolate, clearly long untouched by human activity, no trace of warmth, no sense of life.

The small two-section compound had its east and west wing rooms locked and shut tight.

Only the main chamber at the far end showed a faint trace of life.

The eunuch quickened his pace to the main chamber door, but before he could push it open, the door swung inward by itself.

A thin middle-aged man stepped out from the shadows, half of his face still shrouded in darkness.

Seeing him, the eunuch immediately offered a respectful greeting. “Sir, my godfather has entrusted me with a secret message for you.”

He presented the wax-sealed pellet as he spoke.

The gaunt man raised a hand and took the wax pellet.

Though the man appeared emaciated, his hands were unusually refined, resilient in bone, smooth in skin, and obviously well-maintained.

Every time the eunuch saw those hands, he felt a pang of jealousy.

Those hands truly exceeded the limits of ordinary men.

Perhaps because he stared too long, the eunuch suddenly felt a sharp drop in temperature around him, prompting an involuntary shiver.

The chill was unnatural.

Even though it was late summer and already cool, this wasn’t just cool, it was wrong.

This cold seemed to claw at his very bones.

“Sir- Mister Shen… if there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave now.”

As he turned to retreat, something unseen caught his foot.

Terror surged through him.

His face went pale as death, like paper drenched in golden wax.

Looking down, it wasn’t the corner of the path that had tripped him, something had grabbed his ankle.

Before he could react, his body was already falling forward.

But in that instant, a refined hand seized his shoulder, steadying him upright.

“Do not make a scene!”

The man surnamed Shen barked in a harsh voice.

The young eunuch felt the pressure ease. He quickly bowed and took his leave.

The moment he exited the chamber, he broke into a full sprint.

In his panic, he fumbled with the door bolt, forgot to shut the gate behind him, and scrambled away headlong toward the palace.

From within the shadows, the half-shrouded face of the man watched his fleeing figure and grinned.

With a flick of his hand, he crushed the wax pellet and opened it.

The contents of the secret message were not surprising.

This was his purpose, after all. Otherwise, Zheng Zhong wouldn’t have parted with so many resources.

Only the cultivation method he yearned for, Zheng merely gave it to him bit by bit.

Fearful of hidden dangers, he dared not cultivate it yet, only collecting and accumulating the fragments.

At least, until he could piece together the full framework.

Mister Shen crumbled the letter into scraps and tossed them into the brazier, where they burned away with a faint crackle.

In a calm murmur, he said, “Killing people… couldn’t be easier.”

As he spoke, he turned and entered the inner room.

The inner room had no windows, and even the doorway was blocked off by a thick quilt.

Only a flickering red candle cast dim, wavering light.

At the center of a small altar was a blank red sheet of paper.

On either side burned thick red candles, each as thick as a baby’s arm, casting their glow on a red-draped object placed solemnly in the middle.

Mister Shen picked up a black dagger nearby.

Then he went to the eastern wing and retrieved a large rooster.

With one clean slice, he cut its throat. Blood sprayed out as the rooster fluttered and he hurled it into the inner room.

At first, the sounds of its dying struggle echoed.

Moments later, silence.

Only then did he step into the room.

He approached the altar and drew the dagger across his palm.

Fresh blood welled from the wound and poured over the red cloth.

Upon closer inspection, it became clear the red cloth itself had been dyed entirely in blood.

The fresh blood seeped rapidly into the fabric, as if something inside were hungrily absorbing it.

The object beneath the cloth shuddered a few times, then gradually stilled.

“Come now, my treasure,” Mister Shen smiled, his eyes filled with fanaticism, as if gazing at his beloved.

Night had fully fallen.

Darkness absolute.

The young eunuch did not dare pause for even a moment. He fled Qing’an Ward at a trot.

To him, it was no less than fleeing for his life.

He had only known that Mister Shen was a figure shrouded in mystery, a man with the airs of an immortal.

But this visit had chilled him to the core.

Only upon returning to the Internal Rectitude Office did his heart finally settle.

He collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath.

Rolling up his pant leg, he glanced down and was instantly horrified.

A faint black handprint marked his ankle.

But in the blink of an eye, the handprint faded into nothing, as though it had never existed.

As though it had all been a hallucination.

Goosebumps broke out over the eunuch’s body.

An icy shiver ran from spine to scalp.

“Evil… that place is cursed! Damn it, that was uncanny!”

Even the Internal Rectitude Office no longer gave him a sense of security.

He hurried off toward the inner palace’s Sutra Repository.

The old eunuch there knew a few tricks, nothing grand but enough to put his heart at ease.

The stars had risen. Night blanketed the sky...

Wen Yue awoke from his cultivation, his increase in spiritual power negligible.

But this was within Tu Shanjun’s expectations.

The five-root spiritual roots were already poor and Acquired To Innate constitutions were even worse than that.

Naturally, such a person could not rely on external methods to accumulate much spiritual energy.

Even with endless hours of breathing exercises and meditative absorption, it could not compare to the vitality gained from eating meat.

Therefore, internal refining methods suited not just Qi Refining disciples, but also those with poor aptitude.

The internal method, refining essence into qi, and accumulating spiritual energy.

That afternoon, the Jing’an Marquis had returned home.

Calmly, he told Wen Yue, “It’s done.”

So casual, as though nothing in the world could thwart him.

As though success was no more than light drizzle.

Little did Wen Yue know the fierce arguments that had taken place in court, the relentless effort it took for his father to win him that role.

The Annan Marquis was second-in-command of the army.

Wen Yue, as vanguard, would command a force of three to four thousand men at minimum.

The court had no intention of launching a full military campaign.

This “expedition” was little more than assembling thirty to forty thousand troops to rotate garrisons at Tong Pass, swapping the current border troops with forces from within.

The border troops would then be scattered, some absorbed into the three major garrisons in the capital, the rest assigned to surrounding defense cities.

Such measures were standard practice.

All to prevent frontier troops from growing too strong, lest powerful generals at the border become a threat to the throne.

Thus, every three years, the empire conducted troop rotations.

This year happened to be such a year, merging defense with feigned offense.

Most likely, Tong Pass had already gathered some of the defeated soldiers from the Luo River campaign. Reinforcements would be unnecessary.

The central army may not move in force, but minor skirmishes were inevitable.

Northern Wei would not allow Liang to recover in peace. That Wei Emperor had long harbored ambitions of swallowing Great Liang whole.

Wen Yue was not surprised that things had gone smoothly.

After all, these endless battles, they might not say it but everyone was growing afraid.

Even the noble families' heirs were human. Truly capable ones were few and far between.

If they were all sent to die, who would be left to lead future campaigns?

Wen Yue’s thoughts drifted.

Not because of anything specific but because the wind outside the door had gone still.

The old crow in the tree had stopped cawing.

Even the rustling of insects and rodents had come to a sudden halt.

Wen Yue stared intently at the door.

There was… something there.

Holding its breath… and silently watching him through the gap in the frame.

(Chapter End)