“Bing Zhi—read and burn immediately.”
Yang Xingjian’s bloodshot eyes were bright and gleaming, radiating frenzied excitement. If his leg hadn’t been broken, he would be pacing restlessly around the room.
“Oh.” Qiu Ren didn’t even glance at him, humming carelessly.
Seeing no one paying attention, Yang Xingjian waved his arms and explained loudly: “Anyone using such cryptic vocabulary couldn’t be an illiterate jianghu ruffian! That note must have been written by someone learned and powerful, instructing Cao Hong to burn it after reading. That’s why Cao Hong didn’t dare reveal any clues about that person even unto death, preferring to swallow the note and destroy the evidence. Jiu Niang must have been abducted by this mastermind!”
In his past secret correspondence with Prince Shao, he had frequently used similar code words and was very familiar with them. Ordinary people’s correspondence would never handle letters with such strict caution. At the time, witnessing Wei Xun disembowel Cao Hong with his bare hands had terrified him senseless, his mind in chaos, unable to think through the key points. Only after returning to the courtyard and calming down for a day or two, repeatedly pondering, did he notice the subtle implications hidden behind those few remaining characters.
The room full of illiterate jianghu ruffians listened quietly to Yang Xingjian’s explanation, but none seriously took these words to heart, only perfunctorily thinking about their own concerns.
Xu Baozhen repeated coldly: “So it’s powerful nobles.”
Yang Xingjian nodded desperately like crushing garlic, his voice full of ingratiating intent: “The immortal speaks truly! We never considered this direction before. Actually, the households of high officials and nobles all keep large numbers of slaves and frequently need to buy and sell people. Please hurry and find Wei Xun, tell him to search in this direction.”
After Cao Hong’s death two days ago, the leads were severed again. Wei Xun’s strength was exhausted and spirit endangered. Suffering this devastating blow, his mind completely collapsed. The three White Camel Temple elders risked being pulverized to prevent him from going on a killing spree. He let out a tragic howl, snatched that hair ribbon, then vanished into the deep night like a specter, disappearing without a trace.
“Fine.” Qiu Ren was first to stand and head for the door. Xu Baozhen, Tuoba Sanniang, and Luo Tuotuo immediately followed suit.
Seeing hope again, Yang Xingjian couldn’t help but breathe a long sigh of relief, collapsing completely in his chair. His broken leg felt numbly itchy, as if ants were crawling on it.
He silently reflected that if upper-level powerful figures were truly involved, lower-level officials like County Captain Geng Changren naturally wouldn’t dare act rashly. Distant water couldn’t save a nearby fire—there was no time to contact Prince Shao in Youzhou. With no other choice, he could only place hope in these audaciously bold jianghu warriors.
However, he didn’t know that after the four left the courtyard, they had no intention of relaying his words exactly.
Canyang Academy disciples had no family burdens and feared challenging any powerful nobles. But if they truly acted, the price would be leaving Luoyang to seek other opportunities. Trouble was one consideration, but now what gave them severe headaches wasn’t the kidnapping case.
The four walked along, chatting desultorily. Recalling Wei Xun’s performance in the vicious battle with those masters two days ago, Tuoba Sanniang was deeply troubled: “Wei Da has been driven mad, but strangely, his martial arts have become increasingly refined, entering a transcendent realm.”
Luo Tuotuo picked up the conversation: “Master was the same—the madder he became, the stronger he grew.”
Xu Baozhen’s eyes were ice-cold as he said gravely: “The world cannot have a second Chen Shigu.”
Everyone tacitly agreed with this conclusion.
Qiu Ren said: “Let’s pretend we didn’t hear that cripple’s words. I have one last avenue here. If we still can’t find results that will make him give up… then we’ll all act together.”
Though Fourth Brother didn’t specify the target of their action, everyone understood clearly in unspoken agreement.
Xu Baozhen, cautious by nature, considered for a moment: “How can this matter be concluded safely? If both sides suffer losses, it’s merely futile.”
Luo Tuotuo said coldly: “He’s much faster than a gunpowder fuse.”
Qiu Ren said straightforwardly: “I’ll take a loss and provide a sufficient dose of datura.”
Tuoba Sanniang said: “If we can’t use trickery for a sneak attack, then Fourth and Fifth Brother will restrain him while Second Brother Xu and I deliver killing blows.”
The strategy was decided in a few words. Everyone’s expressions were grim as they silently calculated odds of victory. Tuoba Sanniang suddenly remembered Pang Liangji’s wedding gift, snorted, and sighed: “Why is it that every time we meet, we’re pooling money for someone’s funeral?”
After Wei Xun’s collapse and disappearance, they told Yang Xingjian and Shisan Lang they couldn’t find him. In truth, Canyang Academy disciples had worked and studied together for years, thoroughly understanding each other’s character and habits, with some idea of where he might go.
The four searched separately for less than a day before discovering their target’s traces at the mass grave outside the eastern suburbs. He sat motionless on a rotten coffin in a daze, lacking any signs of life, with a flock of carrion crows settled around him.
Xu Baozhen silently discarded his fly whisk, inserting his long sword at his waist. Tuoba Sanniang changed to new pipa strings. Everyone prepared thoroughly before Qiu Ren stepped forward to test the waters. At thirty feet distance, the crows grew alert and flew away in a black mass.
Wei Xun hung his head, arms relaxed on his knees, dark circles around his eyes, his face covered with dirty tear stains. Qiu Ren carefully stepped forward half a pace, as if walking on thin ice. Wei Xun remained unmoved, but his fingers twitched slightly.
This line was the boundary—once entering his attack range, he would instantly erupt. Even with “Prajna Repentance” cultivated to the fifth level, one couldn’t avoid losing limbs or escaping unscathed.
The hair on Qiu Ren’s neck stood up. Suppressing instinctive fear, he spoke: “Elder Brother, Fourth Brother still has one last avenue.”
Wei Xun’s spirit was shattered. After leaving the Cao residence, he seemed to have fainted for a long time, occasionally losing consciousness, unconsciously wandering to this place. Having practiced martial arts at mass graves since childhood, this was the most familiar environment for him. Hazily hearing these words, he slowly raised his head, expressionless, his gaze unfocused.
Qiu Ren raised his hand to protect his chest and abdomen against sudden attack, saying cautiously: “However… my contact is no longer living. Can Elder Brother accept this?”
After a very long time, Wei Xun’s scattered gaze gradually focused. He opened his mouth and softly uttered: “Whether living or dead, I must see for myself.”
Qiu Ren nodded slightly: “Then it’s the old Canyang Academy business—digging graves and excavating tombs.”
Bao Zhu felt herself buried alive once again. This time, she was fully conscious.
The Yellow River region had been drought-stricken for long periods. Piercing sunlight poured down unobstructed as she was slowly drained of life under the blazing sun. Her exposed skin burned painfully—the sensation of sunburn was extremely similar to scalding. Her cheeks, chest, arms—every inch of skin seemed on fire.
Bao Zhu felt herself placed in an alchemical furnace, mercilessly roasted and burned by raging heavenly fire. She kept turning her head, pressing her burning cheeks against the stone bricks, trying to absorb a bit of pitiful coolness to escape the blazing sun. However, moments later the other side of her face would feel excruciating pain. Then deadly hunger and thirst crept up silently, bit by bit gnawing at her will and strength.
After one day, the torture of thirst began surpassing all other suffering.
Her body’s moisture was rapidly depleting. Bao Zhu’s mouth was parched, her throat feeling like someone had lit a fire inside. She couldn’t help thinking of how Mi Moyan often didn’t dare drink water for entire days. Now he was finally free, and it was her turn to endure this torment where days felt like years.
Li Yu’s gaze intensified the suffering. He sat in the covered corridor, using those malicious eyes to appreciate her misery, as if she were a butterfly nailed to the wall in death throes. Those two gazes were like poisoned knives, skinning her alive piece by piece.
After two days, Bao Zhu felt intense regret. She regretted not committing suicide earlier—she should have ended her life decisively like Lu Zhu jumping from the tower, thus avoiding this humiliation and torture where she could neither live nor die.
She wanted to cry for help, beg for mercy, seek quick death, wail loudly, but extreme thirst made her eye sockets as dry as her throat, without any tears, becoming a parched desert. She fantasized about her brother leading troops to raze Prince Qi’s mansion, but reason knew this was a fool’s dream.
By the third day, Bao Zhu began experiencing waves of hallucinations, sometimes sleeping, sometimes startling awake. Many times she hazily saw Wei Xun climbing over the wall toward her, opening his strong arms. But after brief wild joy, she discovered it was only the afterimage of a flying bird or shadows from wind moving through trees. Hope was shattered again and again.
Bao Zhu sensed she would undergo the same rotting changes as corpses in coffins under broad daylight. Her soul trembled in fear as the vivid murals painted by Wu Guancheng at Great Toad Light Temple appeared before her eyes one by one.
First Fresh Death, Second Bloating, Third Bruising, Fourth Blood-smeared, Fifth Putrefaction, Sixth Worm-eaten, Seventh Dismemberment, Eighth Exposed Bones, Ninth Dried Bones. The nine contemplations of impurity—she would experience them all while alive.
In the depths of night, she turned her head and vaguely saw several pairs of bloody bare feet surrounding her. They were the vengeful spirits of previous Goddess of Mercy slaves. They silently gazed at her, blood tears flowing from their black eye sockets. Bao Zhu had always feared darkness and ghosts and should have felt terrified, but in this desperate moment of dying breath, she deeply longed to immediately join their ranks.
Many people had originally lived in Bao Zhu’s heart. She had eagerly hoped they would come save her or quickly end her life. As days passed one after another, those figures gradually blurred and their numbers quietly decreased. Finally, only one shadow remained.
With consciousness hazy at death’s door, Bao Zhu could no longer remember anyone else, only crying toward the sky, repeatedly calling this person’s name: “Mother! Mother! Mother!”
At some unknown moment, rolling clouds quietly obscured the blazing sun, and the harsh sunlight dimmed. Between layers of clouds, faint radiance began flowing slowly, and a sacred, misty image gradually condensed, gazing down at her with compassionate, gentle eyes.
Mother had come to receive her. Bao Zhu thought wearily—it was finally over. She was completely burned out.
At the same time, in Great Toad Light Temple, the new abbot Guanchao sat in his meditation chamber, concentrating intently on calculating grain accounts for disaster relief.
Little novice Miaozheng rushed in, calling out: “Abbot! Abbot! Come quickly and look—there are strange celestial phenomena above Luoyang!”
Guanchao showed surprise and immediately stood, hurrying outside his chamber to gaze toward Luoyang city. He saw thick clouds like ink above the city, churning endlessly. Within the misty cloud layers, strange radiance was magnificent and dazzling, with flowing colors that moved hearts and inspired reverence.
Guanchao quickly pressed his palms together in devout worship, thinking: Is that Buddha’s light? Such causes, such conditions, such effects, such retribution—such fundamental completion. Could this scene be a manifestation of karmic cycles? May good and evil receive their due rewards, fortune and misfortune follow each other, each bearing responsibility with no one to take their place.
At this time, disaster victims queuing for porridge outside Great Toad Light Temple also witnessed these strange celestial phenomena, all kneeling in worship, grateful for Buddha and Bodhisattvas’ charitable life-saving grace. “Let it rain! Please rain quickly! The drought has lasted too long!” Thousands upon thousands prayed in their hearts, their collective will forming an invisible force surging toward the heavens.
In her dying hallucination, Bao Zhu felt the glowing misty figure in the clouds lean down. She held a pure vase, gently waving willow branches, sprinkling sweet dew upon the earth.
Instantly, torrential rain poured down.
In moments, over an inch of rainwater accumulated in Auspicious Cloud Hall’s courtyard, with curtains and drapes everywhere flapping loudly in the wind. As everyone marveled, a gust carrying cold rain suddenly surged into the covered corridor, extinguishing both coiled dragon lamps that had burned continuously for decades.