Wang Daxia had just recovered from serious illness, looking gaunt and haggard. Both Wei Caiwei and Lu Ying couldn’t bear to let him act at midnight, so they initially hid it from him. Lu Ying even said they would escort the Life-Chasing Poison Master to the capital tomorrow.

Unexpectedly, Wang Daxia had the same plan. As a subordinate, he couldn’t openly contradict his superior’s decision; as a fiancé, he didn’t want Wei Caiwei to risk danger with him, so he decided to fight alone.

The three of them thus reached the same destination by different paths.

Seeing Wei Caiwei and Lu Ying arrange the assassination plan against Yan Shifan so clearly, with methods both fierce, ruthless, and precise, Wang Daxia, who had spent a year alone pursuing enemies along the southeastern coast, felt his nose tingle with emotion:

What virtue and ability do I, Wang Daxia, possess to have such wonderful wife and superior!

Wang Daxia put on the guard’s clothes. Wei Caiwei also took off her black robe and wore a Taoist robe with bagua patterns on the back, disguising herself as a Mount Wudang priest. She tied a strip of white cloth around Wang Daxia’s neck: “This is our own people’s mark. Those dressed as guards wear it around the neck, those dressed as priests tie it at the waist, like me.”

Lu Ying and Wang Daxia were both guards, Wei Caiwei was a priest. She even carried a peach wood sword for exorcism to look the part.

Lu Ying opened a map of Mount Wudang and said: “Our people are scattered at all necessary passages. Once Yan Shifan is discovered fleeing down the mountain, red flares will signal his direction, and we’ll eliminate him together. No flares have been spotted yet, so Yan Shifan is still holed up in the Golden Hall’s Taihe Palace. We’ll go up under the pretense of rescue.”

Tonight had only one purpose: kill Yan Shifan to avenge Wang Qianhu.

Of course, in Wei Caiwei’s heart, it was also revenge for her tragically dead sister and wrongfully executed father.

Yan Shifan, it’s almost New Year’s Eve—our accounts can’t be delayed any longer.

The three climbed the stone steps. All along the way was chaos. Mount Wudang’s winter nights were cold, and guards on night duty without exception ate midnight snacks. Wei Caiwei ground the mushrooms and added them to hot noodle soup and warming wine. The guards found tonight’s noodle soup especially delicious, becoming more energetic and excited the more they ate, drinking even the broth completely.

Before they could set down their bowls, they felt inexplicably joyful, collectively falling into hallucinations. Celestial music seemed to play in their ears, surroundings no longer felt cold—spring warmth bloomed, birds sang, immortals descended from clouds to dance gracefully. They couldn’t help but dance with the immortals, twisting waists and swaying hips, pupils dilated, gazes vacant, wearing foolish grins.

This terrified the Mount Wudang kitchen workers delivering food. They hurried to the duty room to wake sleeping guards. The guards awoke startled from dreams, thinking assassins had entered, rushing over in panic only to see their comrades setting down weapons and dancing in the cold night, unable to be roused no matter how they called.

Having never seen such a scene, they thought it was evil possession or ghostly haunting, frantically knocking on various temple doors, demanding Mount Wudang priests get up to perform exorcism rituals.

Mount Wudang’s five hundred-plus priests were forced into action, each displaying their skills—drawing talismans, wielding peach wood swords, killing roosters and spraying chicken blood, killing black dogs for dog blood. Basin after basin of what legend claimed were pure yang substances’ fresh blood were splashed on the dancing guards, all to no avail.

Each guard trapped in hallucinations dared face the dripping blood, continuing to dance—nothing was better than dancing.

Some virgin priests even shamelessly dropped their pants on the spot, urinating on the demon-possessed guards!

The three departed from Purple Cloud Terrace, climbing the mountain, passing through Yellow Dragon Cave, ascending the Hundred Step Ladder, entering Gold Dividing Ridge, reaching Taihe Palace.

Along the way was complete chaos—yellow talismans drawn with cinnabar fluttered everywhere, mixed with the bloody smell of chicken and black dog blood and the stench of boy’s urine. The dignified Taoist holy site was as chaotic as a marketplace.

However, fortunately Mount Wudang was chaotic enough that the three’s ascent was virtually unobstructed. Whether the guards dancing freely like seaweed riding wind and waves, the priests busy casting spells to subdue demons, or the guards stunned by the scene—none noticed the three going uphill against the flow, assuming they were going to rescue someone.

Moreover, Wei Caiwei imitated the pretentious exorcism posture that Taoist Lan Daoxing once performed in the Forbidden City against black magic. She wielded her peach wood sword, learning the Seven Star step pattern, chanting the Big Dipper Spirit Curse while walking:

“Big Dipper Seven Elements, divine qi governs heaven. Great Saint Tiangang, mighty light ten thousand fold. Above heaven, below earth, severing evil sources. Riding clouds ascending, descending to the altar. Descending true qi, penetrating water into smoke. Transmitted through three realms, ten thousand demons submit. Slaying demons without trace, returning death to immortality. Heaven and earth mysterious school! Command demons to perish, urgent as law commands!”

Wherever Wei Caiwei’s peach wood sword pointed, Wang Daxia cooperatively threw firecracker poppers in that direction—pop, pop, pop with bright flashes, looking like real spell-casting. The scene was quite spectacular, appearing much more “immortal” than splashing chicken blood or urinating.

Thus the three “cast spells” all the way to Taihe Palace at Tianzhu Peak. The top of Taihe Palace was also Mount Wudang’s highest point—the Golden Hall, where the Xuanwu God was enshrined.

Mount Wudang’s peak was too cold. Originally, after Yan Shifan and Prince Jing worshipped the Xuanwu God in the Golden Hall, they planned to descend to the guesthouse for rest, returning tomorrow for the ceremony. But with the Life-Chasing Poison Master’s sudden escape and continued evasion, both Yan Shifan and Prince Jing worried the mountain descent wouldn’t be safe, so they simply stayed overnight at Taihe Palace.

Because Taihe Palace surrounded the Golden Hall, with palace buildings on the east, west, and north directions all built against mountains, constructing high walls with sheer cliffs below offering no footing—only with wings could one fly in. Only the south gate provided entrance, making it Mount Wudang’s highest and safest palace.

Both Yan Shifan and Prince Jing treasured their lives, unwilling to risk any mishap, so they hunkered down in Taihe Palace.

At midnight, Taihe Palace suddenly erupted in commotion. Both Yan Shifan and Prince Jing were awakened by the “ghostly haunting” clamor—being nobles, they didn’t stand night watch and hadn’t eaten Wei Caiwei’s doctored midnight snacks, having slept early with their respective sweet dreams.

Both being evildoers, hearing ghostly sounds immediately frightened them, quickly demanding Taihe Palace priests perform exorcisms.

The priests showed their various abilities like the Eight Immortals crossing the sea. Talismans drawn with cinnabar fluttered above Taihe Palace, but no matter how profound their Taoist skills, none could make the guards stop dancing.

All talismans failed.

This group of guards seemed to have collectively traveled five hundred years into the future to Beijing’s Sanlitun nightclubs, following inner music to move their bodies endlessly, as if an invisible DJ tirelessly worked the turntables above the Golden Hall.

The walls surrounding Taihe Palace became deafening speakers. The dancing guards responded to nothing but music, like marionettes controlled by musical notes, involuntarily swaying their bodies in collective rave dancing.

Yan Shifan and Prince Jing hid in a pavilion, watching through windows everything happening at Taihe Hall. Prince Jing knelt toward the Golden Hall, praying: “Xuanwu God! My good ancestor! Please appear and drive away evil spirits, save your descendants!”

Though aged, Yan Shifan’s mind remained sharp. Observing that priests’ various exorcism methods were useless and dancing guards showed no reaction to spells yet didn’t attack people either, he immediately had an idea. He helped the prayer-kneeling Prince Jing to the window, sharing his discovery:

“…Your Highness needn’t panic. These guards only dance without doing anything else—they don’t even hold weapons. This minister suggests Your Highness order these dancing guards expelled from Taihe Hall. Close the doors and let them dance outside. When dawn comes and the sun rises, perhaps these possessing evil spirits will leave.”

Prince Jing was panic-stricken and believed whatever Yan Shifan said: “Do as you suggest.”

Yan Shifan issued orders in Prince Jing’s name. Lucid guards and priests together drove out the dancing guards. These guards danced in place, showing no reaction to the outside world. No matter how they shouted or even threatened with swords, they wouldn’t move toward the south gate.

Until one guard with a long spear, in desperation, pierced a dancing guard’s neck.

Blood gushed from the neck. The dancing guard fell, body convulsing, breath stopping—finally motionless.

Yan Shifan was delighted, quickly claiming credit with Prince Jing: “Did Your Highness see? They’re not frightening—just a bunch of dancing fools who won’t even dodge when speared.”

Prince Jing saw this was true, immediately gaining confidence: “Use ropes to tie their waists and drag them out one by one.”

Subordinates complied, no longer using words and weapons to drive them, but leashing them like dogs and slowly leading them toward the south gate.

This method actually worked!

The guards followed the pulling force while dancing, each step more graceful than the last. Occasionally some fell but immediately got up to continue dancing.

Yan Shifan lavishly flattered: “Your Highness’s brilliant strategy! This minister admires it extremely!”

Being praised by the old fox known for his “devilish talent,” Prince Jing felt smugly proud, believing himself the chosen one destined to inherit the throne.

To drive out the dancing guards, the closed south gate opened. The trio slipped in during the chaos.

However, Taihe Palace was Mount Wudang’s grandest architectural complex with over five hundred rooms and pavilions everywhere. Where exactly was Yan Shifan hiding?

This didn’t stump the trio. Wei Caiwei grabbed some bloody mud from the ground, smearing it on her face and clothes until her features were unrecognizable.

Guard-dressed Lu Ying and Wang Daxia tore at Wei Caiwei’s Taoist robe and knocked her hat askew. Now Wei Caiwei looked like she’d just fought someone, her robe torn to shreds.

Lu Ying and Wang Daxia flanked her, grabbing her arms and dragging her to a guard: “We’ve caught the thief Minister Yan was looking for. Where is Minister Yan? We need to deliver the criminal.”

Among the three, Wei Caiwei’s build most resembled the Life-Chasing Poison Master’s, easily fooling others.

The guard pointed toward Lingyun Pavilion: “Right there, where the two red lanterns hang.”

The trio rushed toward Lingyun Pavilion.

Author’s Note: What? Already two hundred chapters so quickly? Celebrating with 200 red envelopes!