Overnight, the underground criminal enterprises of the Eastern Capital Luoyang were systematically destroyed by a pack of wolf-like martial world villains. No one knew who had provoked these lawless demons. They ignored all underworld rules about staying in their own territories, refused to negotiate, showed no fear of making enemies, and employed extremely ruthless methods.

This group had no interest in private salt dealers, gambling houses, or high-interest pawn shops. They specifically targeted places that trafficked in human beings—brothels and slave markets. Anyone bold enough to obstruct them lined up to report to the King of Hell. They treated bandit gangs and local thugs equally, killing gods if gods blocked them, killing Buddhas if Buddhas blocked them, carving a bloody path from Dingding Gate all the way to Copper Camel Lane. For a time, the underworld was in panic, and shops specializing in human trafficking in the Southern Market closed their doors one after another seeking self-preservation.

However, despite turning everything upside down searching all night, they still had no leads.

Tuoba Sanniang climbed onto a wall and saw a person hanging upside down from the crooked-necked tree in the desolate courtyard. Ankles tied high to the trunk, a small cut opened on the side of the neck, the blood already drained, with a large patch of purplish-black soil beneath the tree—exactly like the methods used in butcher shops to process live pigs and sheep.

Wei Xun sat on a nearby round stone, his gaze hollow, silently watching this already rigid corpse, lost in unknown thoughts. From bloodletting to complete death took about half an incense stick’s time—perfect for extracting the truth through interrogation. But the corpse still hung there, indicating nothing had been learned.

Tuoba Sanniang was expert in such methods but had never seen Wei Xun act this way. She thought this little madman’s thoughts flowed like a spring when his illness struck—no less capable than the old madman.

Wei Xun’s numb gaze shifted from the corpse to Tuoba Sanniang.

She said concisely: “Xu Er found out the slave traders’ supply channels. People are hidden in a cellar in the eastern city. There’s a girl with particularly long hair inside—her silhouette looked somewhat familiar.”

A spark suddenly ignited in his ashen eyes. Wei Xun immediately rose and followed her toward the eastern city.

The location was hidden within residential houses, with a pungent sulfur smell wafting through the courtyard. The cellar entrance was covered with heavy stone slabs, and the slave traders had piled additional heavy objects behind the slabs, refusing to come out. Xu Baozhen, treasuring the Celestial Master robe he’d swindled from the emperor, was unwilling to resume his old profession of digging tunnels, so he called Fifth to blast open the cellar door.

Three slave traders were dragged up from underground. Their leader lay trembling on the ground, explaining in a quavering voice: “These were all voluntarily sold by their birth parents, not abducted. They would starve to death staying at home anyway. Please, heroic gentlemen, show great mercy and spare this small person’s life…”

Luo Tuotuo spat and raged: “Why such a foul mouth—who are you calling heroes?” He raised his staff and smashed the man’s brains out.

Terrified sobbing came from below. Wei Xun took fire from Luo Tuotuo, lit a candle, and jumped underground. The cellar was filthy and stinking, holding over twenty young men and women as merchandise, some children still unable to speak. This year had brought continuous floods and droughts, with many selling wives and children. It was impossible to tell where these people came from.

In a corner, a girl sat with knees drawn up facing the wall, black hair trailing over four feet behind her. With insufficient clothing, she draped her loose hair over her shoulders for modesty. From behind, she indeed looked extremely like Bao Zhu.

The flame in Wei Xun’s hand trembled slightly. He slowly approached, opening his mouth but not daring to call out. Whether from fear or shame, she faced the corner with her face buried deeply in her knees. Wei Xun placed the candle aside, crouched down, and gently lifted her face with his bloody hands.

It was a tear-stained face of a stranger.

Wei Xun climbed back up from the cellar. Xu Er, Sanniang, and Luo Tuotuo stared at him as he numbly shook his head. Everyone fell silent.

After a moment, Xu Baozhen said gravely: “Perhaps we’re looking in the wrong direction. Going through the events—one person to lure Big Senior Brother out, plus two to break in and abduct, makes three total. The person pretending to be a peddler selling pancakes must be a lightness skill expert. The one who injured the youngest has profound martial arts—able to break through his external cultivation with one palm without immediate fatality, controlling the force perfectly.

Though these three aren’t Big Senior Brother’s match, their intelligence and methods are exceptional. Ordinary slave traders shouldn’t have such masters. The Rakshasa Bird revealed Master’s dying words at Jade City, and rumors spread from Guanzhong to the Central Plains—now everyone in both the underworld and legitimate world knows. It might not be about the person but coveting that ‘Tang-overthrowing, world-disrupting’ void object, which is why they targeted her.”

Wei Xun had certainly thought of this. But if Bao Zhu was abducted for this reason, enemies would inevitably use various cruel methods to force her to reveal the object’s location. But the thing mentioned in the dying words didn’t exist at all—what could she say?

There was another possibility. If the murderer who buried Bao Zhu alive reopened Princess Wanshou’s tomb and discovered she had escaped death, they would certainly send masters from Chang’an to eliminate all traces, then bring back the corpse as proof of success. If so, she would already be beyond the mortal realm.

Where did this truly originate? Remnant Sun Courtyard ran rampant in the martial world, making too many enemies, while her imperial bloodline was like gunpowder hidden underfoot, ready to explode at any moment. Multiple vendettas and hidden dangers intertwined—tracing to the source was extremely difficult.

All those previous cases relied on Bao Zhu’s exceptional intelligence, solved jointly by everyone. Once she was captured and missing, he was helpless. Thinking of the torment she might be enduring, Wei Xun felt his heart breaking, nearly vomiting blood.

Tuoba Sanniang said eerily: “Old Chen really was a disaster—even dead he continues to harm the world.”

Luo Tuotuo mumbled a few Buddhist verses and killed the remaining two slave traders with one staff strike each.

While everyone pondered silently, a cluster of fireworks suddenly rose from Cihui Ward direction. Wei Xun shot away like an arrow—this was the contact signal agreed upon with Shisan Lang.

Returning to the small courtyard, Yang Xingjian lay groggily on the bed, moaning. Shisan Lang looked listless as he told Wei Xun: “Registrar Yang returned from reporting to officials. Fourth Senior Brother reset his bones, and he fainted from pain. He just woke up. I vaguely heard him muttering about new leads.”

Hearing this, Wei Xun used thirty percent of his strength to pinch Yang Xingjian’s Hegu acupoint at the tiger’s mouth. He cried out like a dying goose, his consciousness slightly clearing as he weakly said: “Guanyin maid… Guanyin maid…”

Wei Xun switched to pinching his Neiguan acupoint on the wrist. Stimulated by this, Yang Xingjian’s spirits lifted as he intermittently relayed the news he’d obtained from the government offices.

“Everyone disappeared?!” After hearing Yang Xingjian’s account, the Wei Xun brothers were all shocked.

Yang Xingjian sighed: “In the tenth year of Zhenyuan, the female Daoist Xie Ziran from Shu achieved enlightenment and became immortal, ascending in broad daylight—a millennia-rare wonder that the late emperor decreed to praise. But these Luoyang girls never practiced cultivation, and the princess only participated by accident. Yet every year’s Guanyin maids can all ascend, with no one investigating the truth. This matter is especially strange.”

Wei Xun stood up, remembering the location where Guanyin maids were selected, also the source of this series of bizarre events: Changqiu Temple. He rushed out at full speed.

The city patrol had ended, and the bustling, smoky Changqiu Temple had returned to tranquility. After nightfall, pilgrims departed one by one with their unfulfilled prayers, and the nuns punctually closed the mountain gate, shutting out worldly clamor.

Wei Xun slipped into the temple like a ghost, leaping onto the main hall roof and landing lightly in the shadows of the ridge, blending with the surrounding environment. Using delicate techniques, he lifted a corner of roof tiles without making a sound, then peered into the hall through the gap.

Abbess Duanchen sat cross-legged on a cushion, looking up at the Guanyin statue in a daze.

Wei Xun waited patiently. After a long time, the old nun seemed to remember she held wooden clappers and absent-mindedly struck the wooden fish once. After another moment, the half-closed hall door opened, and a man and woman entered successively. The woman was Yao Jiangzhen, a dancer from the Yao Family Troupe, while the man was Cao Hong, leader of the Luoqing Gang.

Abbess Duanchen turned to glance and asked: “Did you two come together?”

Yao Jiangzhen shook her head and said softly: “We just met outside the temple.”

Cao Hong was more concerned with the Guanyin statue. Not bothering to greet Duanchen, he strode quickly toward the lotus throne and carefully counted the figurines offered on the lotus platform under the weak lamplight.

“There’s one more again…” he murmured in bewilderment. On the lotus platform, those charming pottery figurines had become eight. Dragon girls holding pearls and Sudhana boys serving Guanyin, one after another.

Abbess Duanchen nodded: “Since the night of the city patrol, I’ve been sitting before Buddha waiting, yet still couldn’t perceive exactly when this figurine appeared.”

Yao Jiangzhen picked three incense sticks from the altar, lit them and inserted them into the incense burner, then clasped her hands and bowed to Guanyin.

“It seems this year’s one has already gone to the bodhisattva’s side…” Her eyes were dreamy, her gentle whisper like rising fragrant smoke, quickly dissipating in the air.

Cao Hong gazed at the serene and beautiful face of the Guanyin statue, trying desperately to read something from her expression, but gained nothing. He muttered to himself: “Is this truly the bodhisattva’s will?”

The two fell silent for a while, sitting on cushions beside Abbess Duanchen. The three said nothing more, just sitting side by side in meditation. The great hall was pervaded by a trance-like atmosphere as if lost in clouds and mist, with occasional empty strikes of the wooden fish.

Bright moonlight was swallowed by dark clouds, and cold night wind rustled through trees in the darkness, wave after wave, like countless people whispering in the shadows.

Wei Xun observed everything in the hall from the gap between roof tiles, finally realizing where that inexplicable sense of wrongness before the city patrol had come from—the figurines on the lotus throne were sancai pottery.

This type of ceramics was traditionally used only as burial goods for the dead, never placed in the homes of the living.

Author’s Note: Tang sancai glaze is fired at low temperatures. Though beautiful, it has heavy metal lead residue problems and isn’t suitable for household use, mostly used for burial goods (thanks to a guide at Luoyang Ancient Tomb Museum for this information).

The historical records detail the broad daylight ascension of Sichuan female Daoist Xie Ziran, which Emperor Dezong of Tang decreed to praise and commemorate with a stele. The Tang Dynasty was indeed a legendary era where the miraculous and strange coexisted.