Fang Family Medical Hall. The third quarter of the hour of You.

Jin Ruo had a pastry dangling from his mouth as he spread a freshly drawn map of Longshen Temple across the table. He’d sketched it out while Fangke was drawing fire during the day, having slipped inside the temple complex to do some reconnaissance — though time had been short, so he’d only managed to roughly mark the positions of the various halls. “Longshen Temple has two main halls: the Dragon God Hall in the front and the Hall of Sincere Acceptance in the rear. Neither of these two is sealed or off-limits — believers may walk about freely.”

“On the southeast side of the Hall of Sincere Acceptance there is a courtyard annex, divided into the True Courtyard, the Peace Courtyard, and the Enlightenment Courtyard — likely where the Taoist priests reside, nothing particularly notable. The southwest and northeast sides each have five small halls. The one closest to the mountain is called the Hall of Yuanji.” Jin Ruo tapped the map with his fingertip. “I followed that priest called Xuanqing — the talisman water was taken from this hall. Four Taoist priests stand guard at its door. Though they’re wearing Taoist robes, their build and footwork mark them clearly as jianghu men.”

Lin Sui’an: “Is this hall a storage room for the talisman water?”

Jin Ruo: “Nine chances out of ten.”

Lin Sui’an scratched her head and sank into thought.

This visit to Longshen Temple had revealed two deeply troubling developments:

First, the talisman water at Longshen Temple was definitely suspicious — it had very likely already caused damage to the bodies of Cheng County’s residents.

Second, the residents’ reverence for the Dragon God and Longshen Temple bordered on abnormal, even fanatical — they had been thoroughly indoctrinated.

In other words, the bodies and minds of Cheng County’s residents were both under the control of Longshen Temple—

Lin Sui’an let out a sigh. Well, well. No wonder this was a task for a secret censor. Hellish difficulty, as expected.

Since returning from Longshen Temple, Hua Yitang and Fangke had both gone silent. Hua Yitang was staring vacantly at the grass on the rooftop across the way. Fangke stared vacantly at the teacup in his hands. Both sets of eyes were deep and heavy with thought, their expressions grave — two mismatched door-guardian deities, stuck in the wrong shrine.

Ita was worried. He had refilled Fangke’s tea three times. Mu Xia was also worried. He had stacked a tall tower of pastries in Hua Yitang’s hands. Neither effort managed to rouse the two. Both turned to look at Lin Sui’an.

Lin Sui’an: “…”

Why were they looking at her?

Mu Xia and Ita continued to gaze at her earnestly.

Lin Sui’an sighed. “Fangke, don’t worry. Tonight, I’ll go with Jin Ruo to Longshen Temple and get some talisman water.”

Fangke’s eyelid twitched. He looked over.

“I believe that once we have a sample of the talisman water, whatever is in it — Doctor Fang will certainly find a way to counteract it.”

Fangke’s dark, fathomless pupils slowly kindled with a faint light. After a long silence, he gave a single nod.

Lin Sui’an looked toward Hua Yitang. “And you? What mischief are you cooking up now?”

Hua Yitang’s attention finally returned from the wild grass on the rooftop. His eyes were full of deep resentment. “I was genuinely thinking about something serious!”

Lin Sui’an raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I’m all ears.”

Hua Yitang: “I’ve been wondering — why do the people of Cheng County comply with everything Longshen Temple dictates? There must be some reason behind it that we don’t yet know.”

Lin Sui’an: “You think there’s something wrong with the Dragon God legend?”

Hua Yitang nodded gravely. “My instinct tells me the Dragon God legend is the key to saving Cheng County.”

Jin Ruo quipped: “Are your instincts reliable?”

“My instincts have always been as reliable as my luck!”

Everyone simultaneously fired off looks of contempt: Give it a rest — your wretched luck that brings death wherever you go is nothing to be proud of.

Cheng County did have a curfew, but given the tight finances of a lower county, the constables assigned to patrol the night amounted to barely a dozen — who moreover had to split into two shifts, patrolling the first and second halves of the night in turns. The changeover at the Hour of Chou was the most lax in security.

Lin Sui’an and Jin Ruo changed into their night-raid clothes, veiled their faces, and set out from Penglai Ward at the first quarter of the Hour of Chou. They vaulted over the ward gate — only about the height of one person — crossed the Four Seas Avenue, circled around the Dalu Ward, and arrived at the city gate of Cheng. Not a single patrolling constable did they encounter.

The city gate was naturally shut, but for Lin Sui’an and Jin Ruo, it might as well have been open. The rammed-earth city wall was overgrown with wild grass — perfect footholds for climbing. The two pressed their feet against grass roots, gripped the grass blades, and scaled the wall in a series of quick scrambles. They then made their way swiftly through the night, heading straight for Longshen Temple.

The city was easy enough, but entering Longshen Temple cost them considerably more effort. The temple’s outer wall was brick, built tall and thick, with three rows of jagged broken roof tiles propped along the top — sharp as knives. As Jin Ruo was scaling the wall, he was careless for a moment and a tile shard tore through his lapel. Had Lin Sui’an not caught him with a swift grab, the young master of the Pure Gate Sect would have been left dangling from the wall that night.

The two pressed close to the wall’s inner face, using the darkness and the vegetation for cover, moving carefully in the direction of the Hall of Yuanji. Patrolling Taoist priests could be spotted from time to time — lanterns in hand, moving in groups of three, following routes and intervals that were clearly well-planned. The closer they drew to the rear hall of the Hall of Sincere Acceptance, the more frequently the patrols passed. By the outer perimeter of the Hall of Yuanji, a patrol circled every single incense stick’s burning time.

Lin Sui’an and Jin Ruo crouched in the shadow of a far corner, somewhat troubled.

Taking out the priests at the door would be no great difficulty. But each time a patrol passed, they would call out to the guards: “Any abnormalities?” — and would only leave once they heard the response “No abnormalities.”

Jin Ruo: “Do these Taoist priests not need to sleep in the dead of night?”

Lin Sui’an: “Evidently they’re truly devoted to ascending as immortals.”

“Looks like one person will need to stay outside keeping watch.”

“I can’t mimic a man’s voice — it all depends on you, my good disciple.”

“Has the master memorized everything the disciple taught her?”

“Everything except your nonsense.”

Shortly after, one patrol departed.

Lin Sui’an and Jin Ruo bent low to the ground and moved fast — feet barely making a sound — like two cats melting into the night. A few twists and turns brought them to the stone base of the Hall of Yuanji. Lin Sui’an’s fingers snapped out four pebbles in quick succession — they cut through the air with a sharp whistle and struck the back of the necks of the four guarding Taoist priests. All four went down without so much as a whimper.

The two of them leapt silently up the stone steps. Lin Sui’an picked one priest up and propped him against the wall. Jin Ruo threaded a black hemp rope under the man’s armpits, looped the other end over a rafter inside the eave, pulled it tight, and secured it. A man rendered unconscious could thus be fixed in a standing position against the wall — in the dim night, he appeared to all appearances to be an alert guard.

Jin Ruo had clearly done this sort of thing many times before. His movements were clean and efficient, leaving no room for improvement. The speed was startling — positioning one man took no more than the time of ten breaths. With the third man secured and the lock of the Hall of Yuanji pried open, the two slipped inside and dragged in the last priest.

This priest most closely matched Jin Ruo’s build. Jin Ruo stripped off the Taoist robe in three swift moves and pulled it on over himself, smudged a handful of ash across his face, trussed the man on the floor with five-flower binding, shoved a gag into his mouth, and said quietly, “Master — I’ll stand watch outside. If anything is wrong, I’ll signal with an owl call.”

Lin Sui’an: “If things go wrong, escape on your own. Don’t worry about me.”

Jin Ruo grinned. “Master’s martial arts are matchless under heaven. Your disciple naturally has complete confidence.”

With that, he slipped out the door and took his post as the fourth guard.

Lin Sui’an pressed her ear to the door panel. She heard Jin Ruo answer “No abnormalities,” and the patrol outside moved off without noticing anything. Only then did she let out a quiet breath.

The Hall of Yuanji bore little resemblance to an ordinary ceremonial hall. Its floor space was modest, visible at a glance from wall to wall. Inside, dense wooden shelves stood in rows — much like the records room at the Court of Judicial Review, only instead of case dossiers on the shelves, there were ceramic jars and porcelain jars of all shapes and sizes. Some were larger — similar to the white porcelain jars Fangke used to store specimens. Some were smaller, resembling Hua Yitang’s ointment pots. In all colors. At first glance it looked rather like an ancient version of a chemistry laboratory.

Lin Sui’an moved between the shelves, picking up one or two porcelain jars at random. They were empty. She uncapped them, fanned her hand across the opening and sniffed — a faint astringency. She tried several more in succession. All the same. She moved through a few more shelves and found the same thing there too.

Not once did she find a single porcelain gourd flask containing talisman water.

Lin Sui’an considered, wrapped two small porcelain jars in a silk cloth and tucked them into her front, then drew from her front a thick light-blocking black cloth — inside which was nestled a luminous pearl the size of a quail’s egg.

Hua Yitang had pressed it into her hand before she left. He’d said it was a luminous pearl unique to the Southern Sea — small in size, with a gentle light source that could only illuminate an area about the size of a palm, not easily spotted by others. An absolute essential for nighttime burglary and theft.

It had to be said — it was genuinely useful. By its light, her sight was considerably clearer.

Just as Jin Ruo had said, the security here was tight and the hall was seldom swept — the wooden shelves were covered in a fair amount of dust. Lin Sui’an swept past several shelves blanketed with dust, and then noticed a smear on one shelf in the far corner where the dust had been wiped away. Going by the shape, it looked as though a wide sleeve — perhaps a Taoist robe — had accidentally brushed past it, and the trail ended at an unremarkable white porcelain jar, roughly the size of a fist. The jar gleamed clean, without a trace of dust on it.

【To find a hidden chamber or mechanism, just remember three rules: in a dusty place, find what is clean; in a clean place, find what is dirty; and most mechanisms are either a protrusion or a depression.】

This was a mnemonic Jin Ruo had taught her — said to be a secret passed down solely within the Pure Gate Sect, proven by years of practice to be effective nine times out of ten. What it meant was: hidden chamber mechanisms most commonly fell into three categories — in a dusty area, look for what is clean; in a clean area, look for what is dirty; and the majority of mechanisms are found either at a raised or recessed position.

It had to be said — it matched the era’s level of mechanical craft perfectly.

Lin Sui’an proceeded with caution. She first draped a handkerchief over the porcelain jar and picked it up with her covered hand. It didn’t move. She tapped it — a hollow sound. Reassured, she gripped it properly and tried turning it in both directions. It wouldn’t turn left. When she turned right, the base let out a click. She kept turning — the jar clicked and turned one hundred and eighty degrees — and from the direction of the rear wall came a heavy thud.

Lin Sui’an held the luminous pearl and felt along the wall. She found a fissure in the stone — pressed her hand against it. The wall opened. It was a hidden door, revealing a secret passage behind it. Dark and deep, its end unseen.

【Do not rashly enter a hidden passage. First check all surroundings for abnormalities. Only when there are none may you proceed. Before entering a hidden passage, inform your companion, to allow for a response in case of emergency.】

Another rule Jin Ruo had taught her.

Lin Sui’an scanned the room. Everything was undisturbed except for the hidden door. She moved quickly back to the main door and knocked twice on the panel. Outside, Jin Ruo’s shadow shifted closer.

Lin Sui’an whispered: “No talisman water found. There’s a hidden passage. I’m going to explore it.”

Jin Ruo knocked back twice — understood.

Lin Sui’an swapped to a different luminous pearl — this one was the size of a chicken egg, also a parting gift from Hua Yitang, who said it was a specialty of the Northern Provinces. Its light range was between three and four chi, an ideal companion for nighttime scouting and investigation.

By the light of the luminous pearl, the steps inside the passage were clearly visible, extending downward in the distance — clearly this hidden chamber lay underground. Lin Sui’an moved forward carefully with the pearl in one hand and Qian Jing in the other. The passage was uncommonly deep, winding through three great bends. A faint whisper of wind could be heard, and her footsteps threw back an echo.

Lin Sui’an stopped. She covered the luminous pearl and stood listening for a long while. Aside from the wind, there was truly nothing else. She pressed on. The passage gradually widened, the echo growing larger and larger, the space opening up around her — it turned out to be a natural cave. The cave walls bore hanging stalactites dripping water, but the floor was perfectly level, showing clear signs of being scraped smooth and leveled by human hands.

The wind grew stronger — even her breathing echoed.

Venturing further ahead, she came upon a great stone platform — roughly the size of five of the Hua Family’s dining tables. On the platform were scattered a few porcelain jars and bottles, similar to the ones out in the hall, also empty. Lin Sui’an took one more porcelain jar and stowed it away, then circled the entire platform and found nothing else. Moving further on was the cave wall — feeling her way along it with her hand, she found it damp all over. No other passageways revealed themselves.

Still not a single talisman water gourd flask. Had Xuanming Shanren somehow sensed something was wrong and moved the talisman water overnight?

It seemed tonight would indeed yield nothing. Lin Sui’an sighed and turned to retrace her steps. The luminous pearl’s faint light illuminated her feet. She had just stepped onto the stairs when suddenly her steps halted and she held her breath.

She heard another person’s footsteps — coming from deeper in the passage.

The footsteps were fast and light, carrying an odd granular quality. Had the location not been so extraordinarily quiet, with the amplifying echo, they would certainly never have been detected.

Lin Sui’an swiftly pocketed the luminous pearl, retreated into the cave, and stood with her back flat against the cave wall, doing her utmost to still her breathing.

A faint light crept in at the passage’s mouth, swaying gently — the light of a fire stick. Then a figure gradually elongated in the firelight: a man dressed in nightraider’s clothes, tall with broad shoulders and a slender waist, the lower half of his face covered by a mask. His eyes glinted with a strange light in the fire — like a pair of cat’s eyes.

Lin Sui’an was overjoyed. She had thought tonight would end empty-handed, yet to her surprise, a blind cat had just stumbled into a dead mouse. If not now, when?!

In the time it takes to say it, Qian Jing was out of its sheath — and its blade light blazed sudden and brilliant in the firelight, like lightning from the depths of the underworld splitting the dark. It crashed down toward the black-clad man’s head.

The black-clad man sucked in a sharp breath. His toes pushed off the ground and he launched upward, feet tapping the cave wall in rapid succession, and spun in midair — emerging completely unscathed from Qian Jing’s attack. Only the face mask, unable to bear the blade’s pressure, snapped apart — revealing Jin Ruo’s face.

“Master, what do you think you’re doing? You nearly took my head off!” he called out.

Lin Sui’an was startled. She slowly narrowed her eyes. “Royal Court Jade Nectar Wine!”

Jin Ruo, completely at a loss: “What?”

Sure enough — it was that scoundrel again!

Lin Sui’an raised an eyebrow. “It’s been this long — you’re still wearing Jin Ruo’s face? Did you go broke and can’t even afford the pigskin to make a mask?”

The person’s eyes darted around, and he smiled. “Ah — so that wine was a code phrase. I miscalculated.”

Lin Sui’an twirled the blade with one hand and smiled too.

“The latest insights I’ve developed in knife work — care to try them out? Yun Zhong Yue.”