Chapter 38#
A Chance to Turn the Tide#
The night was deep; the capital, which had roared with noise all day, was gradually settling into sleep — but the imperial guard’s offices blazed with light.
The commanding officer, Chen Mingli, sat back in his chair, drained his teacup with a miserable expression, and said: “This was the fault of my men. We had been watching them for several days; with the festival nearly upon us and a firm lead finally in hand, impatience got the better of us.”
“Do not worry, sir. There is still time before the festival. It may not be lost.” Xiao Man sat across from Chen Mingli, speaking quietly.
After what had just transpired, Chen Mingli’s manner toward Xiao Man’s group had shifted once again.
He had tea brought, intending to find out how much these young people knew about the Qinghui Sect and whether they had any other leads — when a figure in dark robes with silver hair walked in from outside without so much as a word of greeting, swept his robes aside, sat down, and accepted a cup of tea from an attendant with the ease of someone entirely at home. His bearing was unhurried; his manner was unruffled.
“Who are you?” Chen Mingli had not seen this person before. He frowned and was about to send him packing — then found he could not read the man’s cultivation level at all.
This person’s realm was above his own.
A small jolt ran through Chen Mingli. He hastily pressed his hands together. “…Senior — my apologies.”
“Senior Wu.” Qu Hanxing and the others rose as well.
Xiao Man glanced at Yan Wushu, confirmed that Chen Mingli didn’t recognize him, and said: “We are disciples of Gushan, here in the capital for our practical training. He is the senior who oversees us.”
“So your group is from Gushan.” Chen Mingli’s private astonishment grew; the gravity in his expression deepened a shade.
“Sir Chen — how much does the imperial guard know of the Qinghui Sect remnants’ movements?” Xiao Man settled back into his seat and steered the conversation back to business.
Chen Mingli drank another cup of tea, brow furrowed, and said in a weighted voice: “Are you aware of what the Qinghui Sect did thirty years ago?”
“We’ve heard something of it,” the group replied.
“They’ve come for revenge.” The words carried a gravity of their own. “They intend to use a rare high-grade magical implement to destroy the entire capital.”
“Do you know which implement?” Xiao Man asked.
Chen Mingli sighed again. “We’re still investigating. The trail has gone cold for now.”
Xiao Man lowered his gaze.
The trail had not actually gone cold — he was still holding one thread of it. But Chen Mingli and his men had not proven especially reliable, and after some thought, he said nothing.
The others in his group kept it to themselves as well. A silence settled over the room.
Wind made the candles tremble. Before long, a figure came hurrying in, a sealed letter in hand. “Sir — a message from the Astronomical Bureau!”
Chen Mingli snatched it up, broke the seal, read it through — and his expression grew, if anything, heavier.
“Sir Chen — has something happened?” Xiao Man’s face turned serious in turn.
Chen Mingli’s brow furrowed deeply before he spoke: “The cultivator known as ‘Half-Step Heavenreach’ — Xin Wo Ren — has entered the capital.”
“Half-Step Heavenreach?” “Who is that?” The group was at a loss.
It was Wei Chuyun who answered, his voice low. “Half-Step Heavenreach is a title. Xin Wo Ren is his name. He is a cultivator who has crossed into the threshold of the Taiqing Saint Realm — formerly of the Daoist path, later of the Buddhist path, and now… a devil cultivator.”
His tone grew heavier: “This person has killed innumerable people by brutal means. In his years of rampaging through the martial world, his name was said to be enough to silence a crying child in the night.”
“Does he have a connection to the Qinghui Sect?” Qu Hanxing asked.
“They hired him,” Chen Mingli said frankly.
“How did someone like that get in?” Qu Hanxing couldn’t make sense of it.
“He wasn’t ’let in’ — he infiltrated,” Chen Mingli corrected his phrasing.
Everyone understood. The capital was about to host a great festival, and people had poured in from all directions; the checks were thorough, but no inspection could be perfect when the numbers were this vast. And with a man who stood at the threshold of sainthood — if he chose to disguise himself, the guards at the city gates would never have had a chance of seeing through him.
Xiao Man’s group didn’t dwell on how Xin Wo Ren had entered. They traded glances; Wei Chuyun thought for a moment and then voiced his conclusion: “A half-saint. It seems they brought him in specifically to handle the capital’s city-protecting formation.”
“I thought only someone who had truly reached the Taiqing Saint Realm could threaten the capital’s city formation?” Shi Tang said, puzzled.
“Xin Wo Ren cultivates the devil path. His methods are extreme.” Wei Chuyun shook his head. “He may be only half a step in, but he must never be treated as merely half a saint.”
The weight of a figure like that sat over the room in silence.
The trail going cold, combined with the infiltration of a half-saint devil cultivator, had dealt Chen Mingli two blows at once. He sat deflated, eyes downcast, not quite with them.
Qu Hanxing let his gaze drift, then made a suggestion: “The Qinghui Sect has gone to ground, and now there’s also a… well, half a saint in the city. The one thing we know for certain is that they’re planning to use the festival as cover to destroy the capital. What if we simply cancel the festival? Wouldn’t that take care of most of the problem?”
Chen Mingli said, with absolute finality: “The festival cannot be stopped.”
“Why not?” Qu Hanxing said. “If we let this go on, every person in this city is in danger!”
“Setting aside the fact that stopping the festival is not within my power alone — this is a ceremony held once every ten years. Troupes and delegations have come from every corner of the realm to celebrate and perform, and there are visitors from across the entire Xuantian Continent. This is a grand occasion of nations gathered together. To cancel it because of a threat would be to break our own spirit and hand prestige to others!” Chen Mingli’s voice was low and hard.
Shi Tang thought this logic was laughable. She set her teacup down on the table with a sharp sound. “You must have known about the Qinghui Sect for some time. You understand the threat they pose better than we do. And yet for the sake of saving face, you’re willing to put every person in this city in danger?”
Chen Mingli waved a hand. “You’re still young — you don’t understand these things. I won’t hold it against you.”
Qu Hanxing and Shi Tang both found the man impossible to reason with. Xiao Man let out a quiet, soundless breath and stepped in as peacemaker:
“Enough — arguing gets us nowhere. Whether the festival goes ahead or not, we need to find the Qinghui Sect’s people and neutralize whatever they’re using to threaten this city.”
Then he looked toward Yan Wushu. “Lord — Senior Wu — do you have any thoughts?”
“My thoughts?” Yan Wushu, who had not said a single word since sitting down, gave a quiet, amused sound. “If you want to know what magical implement the Qinghui Sect plans to use to destroy the capital, come with me. There may be somewhere that has the answer.”
Chen Mingli shot to his feet. “Please lead the way, Senior!”
Yan Wushu rose.
The imperial guard’s vehicle was brought out once more. It too had a concealment array; to guard against the Qinghui Sect’s eyes and ears, it was activated before they had even left the compound.
The night wind blew freely, filling their sleeves and making them ripple like flags. Yan Wushu stood at the front, leading the way. Qu Hanxing suddenly thought of something and asked him: “Senior Wu — if we can’t stop the festival, then once it starts, couldn’t we just activate the city formation along with it?”
“Once the city formation is activated, every corner of the capital is affected — including the festival itself,” Yan Wushu said, unhurried. “So unless it comes to that, the capital won’t open the formation.”
“…People are coming to destroy the city and the city still won’t protect itself. There’s nothing more to say.” Qu Hanxing couldn’t help rolling his eyes.
“When you said earlier that the Qinghui Sect has already put their implement in place — and now they’re letting Xin Wo Ren into the capital as well. Is he here to anchor the plan?” Xiao Man fell into step beside Yan Wushu and asked in a low voice.
“If their plan succeeds, the capital will have no choice but to activate the city formation in self-defense. That is when Xin Wo Ren will move — to suppress the formation from within.” Yan Wushu said, then added: “That is my conjecture, in any case. A form of insurance.”
Xiao Man lowered his gaze and gazed out at the capital in the darkness. “I see,” he said softly.
He moved to the other side of the vehicle. Chen Mingli came to stand behind Yan Wushu, trod carefully, and asked: “Senior — where are we going, exactly?”
Yan Wushu raised an eyebrow and turned the question back on him: “You are the commander of the imperial guard, and you don’t recognize this road?”
“Isn’t this Qian’yi Street?” Chen Mingli looked baffled.
Yan Wushu felt his interest extinguish. He turned his face forward again. “Apparently not. Who did you know, to get yourself into this position?”
His tone was as it always was, the end of the sentence carrying a faint thread of amusement — but Chen Mingli felt his back go cold. Yan Wushu didn’t say much, and when others asked questions he generally answered them. He looked agreeable enough. And yet in every movement and gesture, something flowed through him — a quality that belonged to those accustomed to standing above others.
Chen Mingli’s instincts told him this man’s station was far from ordinary. He smiled quickly. “The Senior is teasing me.”
Yan Wushu never did tell Chen Mingli where they were going. After watching their senior guide get stonewalled, not one of Qu Hanxing’s group dared to ask either.
The night was deep and still. On Qian’yi Street, outside a certain cosmetics shop, Yan Wushu extended his hand and knocked on the shut door — three long, three short, six knocks in total.
About three breaths passed. The door gave a creak and opened inward. Yan Wushu plucked a twig from the tree by the door and handed it to the person who had opened it.
Only then did a voice from inside say “please enter.”
The group followed Yan Wushu in. The front room had no lights; in the dimness, a faint scent of rouge drifted through the air. The shop assistant who had opened the door led everyone through to the back courtyard, guided them through a door, then snapped his fingers to light the lamps on the wall.
“This is most definitely not just a cosmetics shop,” Xiao Man couldn’t help remarking.
“It’s a Shadow Cabinet outpost,” Yan Wushu said softly, a low laugh in his voice.
At those words, Xiao Man’s group finally understood why Yan Wushu had brought them here.
The Shadow Cabinet was the most renowned intelligence organization in the martial world. According to the stories, as long as you could find them — and could pay their price — they could tell you what color undergarments the few Taiqing-realm saints on the Xuantian Continent had worn in recent days.
Though naturally, no one was bored enough to actually go asking about that.
The assistant brought them to a table, offered no tea or other hospitality, turned around and stood on the opposite side, and fixed them all with a direct, unblinking stare.
Yan Wushu made a “please” gesture and looked at Chen Mingli. “Sir Chen — if you would.”
“Me?” Chen Mingli started, looked from Yan Wushu to the assistant, and asked: “…How much does one piece of information cost?”
“Depends what you’re asking,” the assistant said.
Chen Mingli thought it over. “What the Qinghui Sect brought into the capital in the past few days.”
The assistant didn’t hesitate: “One hundred thousand.”
Chen Mingli’s jaw dropped. “One hundred thousand taels of silver?”
“Gold,” the assistant corrected him.
“One hundred thousand taels of gold?!” Chen Mingli staggered back several steps and made to leave.
The lamplight in the room was not especially bright. Yan Wushu stood in the corner, most of his figure swallowed by shadow, his dark robes making him look like a silhouette that had peeled itself off the wall. He watched Chen Mingli’s reaction and said languidly: “Sir Chen — if the Qinghui Sect does manage to cause trouble in this city, I doubt your office will survive it.”
Qu Hanxing joined in helpfully: “One hundred thousand in gold, converted to premium spirit-stones, isn’t actually that much, is it? Sir Chen — I noticed the decorative sword hanging from your carriage a moment ago had quite a few premium spirit-stones set into it.”
“Those were a gift,” Chen Mingli said quietly, defensively, looking around at everyone. After a further struggle with himself, he took a sheaf of promissory notes from his Qiankun ring and handed them to the assistant behind the table.
“One moment.” The assistant said this, then turned and went into a back room behind the wall.
Shortly, he returned and addressed Chen Mingli: “They transported a magical implement called Dān’ěr into the capital.”
“Dān’ěr? What is that?” Chen Mingli had never heard the name.
The assistant extended his hand toward Chen Mingli, thumb and index finger rubbing together lightly. The meaning was clear — that was a new question and would cost extra.
Qu Hanxing smiled and nudged Chen Mingli with his elbow.
“And how much for this one?” Chen Mingli asked, visibly reluctant.
“This one’s not expensive. Three thousand gold,” the assistant said.
“Gold again?!” Chen Mingli gasped.
The assistant, presumably having seen this reaction many times before, looked entirely unmoved. “You’re also welcome to find out yourself.”
Chen Mingli paced back and forth, drew a long breath, and said through gritted teeth: “Fine. Give it to me.”
He produced several more promissory notes.
The assistant went back into the hidden room once more. This time, he came out carrying a sheet of paper.
Everyone crowded in to look.
“It’s an incense burner!” Qu Hanxing exclaimed in surprise.
“…The inner walls of the burner’s belly are engraved with formation arrays and incantation seals. Driven by a large quantity of spirit-stones, when the arrays and seals activate, the burner absorbs all nearby sound into its cavity. Once it reaches a sufficient load, it will detonate.” Xiao Man’s brow was creased as he read the small text beside the illustration in a low voice. “Its destructive force is sufficient to level an entire city.”
“You may keep this,” the assistant said.
Chen Mingli paid no attention to a sheet of paper. He grabbed the assistant and fired off a string of questions: “Where is the Dān’ěr? How do we neutralize it? How do we destroy it?”
The assistant gave a cold laugh. “If we do all your investigation for you, what use is the imperial guard?”
“This is the famed Shadow Cabinet!” Chen Mingli protested. “Established for hundreds of years, claims to know everything in the world—”
The assistant was unmoved. He swept his gaze across the room, let it rest on Yan Wushu, and said: “If there’s nothing else, please see yourselves out.”
“Do you truly not know how to neutralize it?” Chen Mingli pressed.
The assistant replied: “The Shadow Cabinet has never handled the physical object. How would we know how to neutralize it?”
“I can pay any price!” Chen Mingli said.
“Please leave,” the assistant said, expression blank.
“Ah!” Chen Mingli gave a great sigh, turned, and walked out the door.
For the commander of the imperial guard to carry on like this — Xiao Man found it almost funny.
“We’ve learned quite a bit, all the same,” Yan Wushu said, turning his folding fan, his quiet laugh in his voice.
“I suspect they’ve hidden the Dān’ěr at the river bottom. The thing needs enormous quantities of spirit-stones to activate — that’s where the spirit-energy in the water is coming from.” Qu Hanxing reasoned aloud.
Xiao Man shook his head. “The water would dampen and dissipate any sound passing through it — so it can’t be at the river bottom. It must be somewhere that…” He paused. “Somewhere all of the capital’s waterways flow through.”
Qu Hanxing’s eyes lit up: “Then it would be upstream?”
“Perhaps.”
Chen Mingli, walking ahead, said gravely: “I will coordinate with the Astronomical Bureau on surveying possible locations.”
“And what about Xin Wo Ren?” Xiao Man asked.
“The imperial guard under my command may be more capable than ordinary people in a fight,” Chen Mingli said, “but only by comparison to ordinary people. Regardless of how capable they are, they cannot hold off a cultivator of a high realm who has entered the devil path. That too will have to be a problem for the Astronomical Bureau.”
He flapped his sleeve. “It’s getting late. You young ones had best go back and rest.”
He evidently needed to go and make arrangements. Xiao Man’s group said their farewells; Wei Chuyun produced the cloud skiff.
They were back at the inn in moments. The lights throughout were dark; everyone had turned in. Wei Chuyun and Qu Hanxing went to the back courtyard; Xiao Man and the others headed for the west wing of the front courtyard.
Xiao Man changed his clothes. Shi Tang asked him to cast a cleansing spell on her; Mo Juntian sat on the other side and settled into meditation. Xiao Man glanced outside, pushed the door open, and stepped out.
Yan Wushu was standing beneath the osmanthus tree in the courtyard, his hem rising and falling in the wind like dark wings. Xiao Man walked over to him and asked quietly: “How much do you know about the Dān’ěr?”
“First time I’ve heard of it,” Yan Wushu said.
“Then you don’t know how to destroy it either.” Disappointment showed in Xiao Man’s eyes.
Yan Wushu smiled. “I’d expect it’s simple enough — remove the spirit-stones inside, or destroy the formation arrays carved on it.”
“Which requires getting at it and being able to do so.” Xiao Man let out a soundless sigh. The whole situation felt like a headache. He raised his eyes to the dark blue sweep of sky above the courtyard wall. “I’m going for a walk.”
He took two steps, then stopped and said to the figure drifting unhurriedly behind him: “Don’t follow me.”
“The situation is difficult but not hopeless. The guard commander may be a fool, but the Astronomical Bureau isn’t useless — and you still have a lead in your hand, don’t you?” Yan Wushu said in a low, reassuring voice, referring to the fact that Xiao Man still had the tracked mark from the person who had been watching the inn.
Xiao Man answered with a sound of acknowledgment, took to the wind, cleared the grey courtyard wall, and emerged onto the street outside the inn.
The long street that had been so clamorous and bright in the day was now empty. The banner flags hung outside the food stalls and wine houses swayed in the breeze, but there were no customers left to draw in — only a few cold crows.
Occasionally a lantern that someone had forgotten to extinguish swayed alone in the wind, looking particularly forlorn.
The crescent moon had climbed to the middle of the sky. The tip of its curve was wrapped in wisps of cloud; its light was dimmer than it had been.
Xiao Man walked alone for a long while, passed through a crossroads, and came to a pavilion on a bridge over the river.
He stood there, looking out into the distance with no particular purpose — and then a voice spoke at his ear:
“Young one — do you see what lies over there?”
The speaker raised a hand and pointed at something. And when Xiao Man looked, the face he saw was unmistakably Shèn Juàn — the man from that night in the east of the city who had tried to give him the deer antler mask.
Xiao Man could not read Shèn Juàn’s cultivation level, but there was warmth in the man’s voice and no sense of danger about him; indeed, he was openly displaying an unmistakable — and puzzling — degree of fondness toward Xiao Man.
Xiao Man didn’t know why this person was showing such warmth, but he followed the direction of the pointing hand and looked, then said: “The imperial palace.”
Shèn Juàn nodded. “Many years ago, I left a magical implement there. It is capable of passing through any solid object in the world. You may find it useful.”