The second prisoner brought up for interrogation was Han Taiping, former ward chief of Penglai Ward in Cheng County.

Han Taiping’s strategy for facing interrogation was completely different from Xuanming’s. If Xuanming was a madman, then Han Taiping’s whole approach could be summed up in four words: silence is golden.

No matter whether Hua Yitang asked him about the Third Master’s identity, the origins of the “Purity” character scroll, or his connection to the Dragon God Temple, Han Taiping ignored it all, simply kneeling there in silence, head bowed, staring fixedly at the ground like a black period at the end of a sentence.

Hua Yitang asked repeatedly, until Zhu Dachang grew impatient, hinting more than once that if this didn’t work, they should just resort to torture.

But Hua Yitang clearly had other plans. He simply stopped asking questions, had the jailers boil a cauldron of water, pulled out loose Hundred Flower Tea and scattered it into the pot, stirring slowly with a ladle. Then he took out a row of jars and bottles and lined them up neatly on either side of the cauldron—stir a bit, pick a bottle, sprinkle in a pinch of powder, stir again, switch bottles—until the tea gradually turned into a thick, inky green liquid.

Lin Sui’an knew those jars and bottles all too well—they were all Fangke’s treasures, and heaven only knew what shocking ingredients were stuffed inside them. Mixed together like this, whatever it produced was probably a hundred times more potent than talisman water.

Could it be that Hua Yitang had decided to go all in and simply poison this man to death?

A bitter, sour, pungent smell soon filled the entire prison hall. The jailers all fled to the doorway for fresh air, Zhu Dachang retched again and again, Yun Zhong Yue pinched her nose shut, Ling Zhiyan’s face turned unpleasant, and Lin Sui’an decisively pulled out the thick face-covering scarf Mu Xia had given her and put it on, letting out a sigh of relief.

Hua Yitang’s handsome face flickered in and out of view through the tea’s rising steam, his lowered lashes occasionally revealing glints of sharp light. The quieter he became, the more bone-chilling the atmosphere grew.

Han Taiping finally couldn’t take it anymore. He lifted his head and glared viciously at Hua Yitang, his mouth twitching, but still he made no sound.

Hua Yitang set down the ladle, pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his hands. “This tea has such a vivid, rich color, such a strong aroma—surely its taste is unforgettable. Ah, Ward Chief Han looks at me so eagerly, could it be you’ve been craving it for a while?”

The corner of Han Taiping’s eye twitched violently.

Hua Yitang said, “Someone, please serve Ward Chief Han his tea.”

Two jailers carried the cauldron over, two constables pinned down Han Taiping’s arms, and another constable pinched his cheeks, forcing the scalding tea down his throat ladle by ladle. Han Taiping struggled fiercely, his eyes nearly bulging from their sockets, a strangled wail rising from his throat. The inky green tea dribbled sticky and thick down the corners of his mouth. Suddenly, his body convulsed violently, and he collapsed to the ground, vomiting uncontrollably, the tea mixing with some unidentifiable mucus into an utterly foul stench.

Zhu Dachang bolted out of the prison hall and threw up with a loud retch. Even the jailers, who had seen all manner of things, went pale with fright. Ling Zhiyan seemed about to say something, then didn’t. Yun Zhong Yue clicked her tongue repeatedly.

Lin Sui’an, deeply astonished, couldn’t help but glance at Hua Yitang. He sat rigidly behind the desk, coldly observing, the shadow behind him stretching and clawing up the wall like some enormous peony blooming out of the darkness.

Han Taiping retched for a long time, not stopping until his stomach was completely emptied. Trembling, he raised his neck, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Hua Yitang—still he said nothing.

Hua Yitang waved a hand, and several jailers ran over with buckets of water to wash the floor, dousing Han Taiping like a drowned rat in the process.

“This is the first version of Hundred Flower Dew made by my family’s Dr. Fang. How does it taste, Ward Chief Han?” Hua Yitang asked.

The veins on Han Taiping’s neck bulged, his eyes nearly shooting fire.

Hua Yitang shook his head. “It seems it doesn’t suit Ward Chief Han’s palate.”

As he spoke, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Outside the door, Yita led Bingsi and three others in, lining up in a row. All five carried trays bearing small stoves and cauldrons, the water within bubbling and boiling, each a different color—more brewed tea.

The stench in the prison hall grew even more indescribable. Zhu Dachang, having just finished his first round of vomiting, took one whiff and turned right back around to vomit again.

Ling Zhiyan poked Lin Sui’an with her pen. Lin Sui’an understood at once and handed over her spare scarf. Yun Zhong Yue looked over pitifully, but Lin Sui’an shrugged, indicating she only had two, and there wasn’t one for him.

Hua Yitang shook out his robe and rose, pacing over to stand before Yita and the other four, gesturing at them one by one with his fan as he introduced them. “This is the second version of Hundred Flower Dew, this is the third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth—ah, it took four whole cartloads of medicinal ingredients, cost five hundred strings of cash, truly extravagant. But as the saying goes, better expensive than merely adequate. With such costly Hundred Flower Dew, wouldn’t it be a lifelong regret if Ward Chief Han didn’t try every single one?”

Han Taiping finally couldn’t stay silent any longer and burst out cursing, “Hua Yitang, you beast, you’re not even human!”

Unfortunately, because his throat had just been scalded by boiling water, his voice came out hoarse and barely intelligible, sounding like a chicken being strangled.

The atmosphere had been rather heavy, but that one shout had Lin Sui’an nearly laughing out loud.

Xuanming and Han Taiping really had been trained by the same criminal group—their vocabulary of insults was equally impoverished and unoriginal.

But the moment he spoke, it showed that the hard shell of his defenses had cracked, and now was the perfect moment to press the advantage.

A sharp glint flashed through Hua Yitang’s eyes. He gestured for Yita to bring the cauldron forward. Lin Sui’an glanced at it from a distance—every bubble rolling in that cauldron seemed to give off an aura that could make heaven and earth tremble and ghosts and spirits weep. Truly, this was Yita’s handiwork; ten Hua Yitangs combined couldn’t match it.

The first time Lin Sui’an had tasted tea brewed by Yita, she’d had a premonition that this liquid, capable of inflicting both physical and psychological torment, would sooner or later earn itself a place in the world of interrogation.

Having returned for the second time, Zhu Dachang ran out for a third. The constable pinning down Han Taiping looked ready to vomit himself. Yita, expressionless and efficient, scooped up a ladleful and thrust it against Han Taiping’s mouth. His face turned ashen, and he twisted his head away, vomiting up a mouthful of black, sour liquid.

“Ah, wait a moment.” Hua Yitang tapped his palm with his fan. “I nearly forgot—this Hundred Flower Dew is the antidote to talisman water. If one drinks it without first taking talisman water, it will surely harm the body! Ah, what a careless oversight on my part. Bingsi, quickly bring over the talisman water.”

Bingsi nodded stiffly. “Oh. Bringing talisman water.”

Setting down his tray, he pulled a yellow gourd from his robes, walked forward with heavy, mechanical steps, and poured the talisman water into Yita’s ladle. The two liquids mixed and rose up in a puff of black smoke shaped like a skull.

Yita said, “Drink.”

Bingsi said, “Drink.”

This time, Han Taiping didn’t vomit. For the first time, an expression of pure terror appeared on his face, his eyes fixed unblinkingly—on Bingsi.

“How—how is this possible?!”

A light flickered in Hua Yitang’s eyes, and a radiant smile bloomed across his face, lighting up the entire prison hall. He paced forward toward Han Taiping and snapped his fan open with a crisp sound. Yita retreated behind him, while Bingsi and the other three replaced the constables holding Han Taiping down. The jailers and constables, as if relieved of a great burden, scrambled to flee the prison hall, joining Zhu Dachang in a tree pit outside to vomit up their bile.

Only then did Lin Sui’an notice that Bingsi and the other three were dressed today in the mustard-yellow uniforms of the Qiu family’s inner courtyard, their original name tags still pinned to their chests—as if someone feared Han Taiping might not recognize them.

“Happy to see some familiar faces, Ward Chief Han?” Hua Yitang fanned himself with a whoosh. “These four were rescued, at great pains, from Xuanming’s secret vault by my own Lin Sui’an. Though they suffered some minor injuries, they’re recovering rather well—eating their fill, sleeping soundly, cheeks nice and rosy. In their free time, they love playing backgammon with my Yita, and sometimes they even win a round or two.”

Bingsi and the other three said, “Win a round.”

Han Taiping’s eyes spun as if wound up on a spring, suddenly snapping toward Lin Sui’an, his expression twisted with malice. “So it really is you—Master of Thousand Purity, Lin Sui’an!”

Suddenly called out like that, Lin Sui’an was thoroughly baffled. She blinked, then answered rather politely all the same, “Oh, yes, that’s me.”

Han Taiping said, “How did you do it?! Tell me, how did you actually do it?!”

Do what? What on earth was this senseless question even asking?

A head full of question marks, Lin Sui’an shot a confused look at Hua Yitang, only to find the scoundrel grinning at her—and grinning with no small amount of mischief.

Lin Sui’an understood. Hua Yitang wanted her to play along.

Whatever, she’d just bluff her way through it for now.

“Well—” Lin Sui’an scratched her head. “Would you believe me if I said it was a coincidence?”

Ward Chief Han’s eyes bulged nearly to bursting, his throat bobbed, and he spat out a mouthful of blood—whether from the scalding tea perforating his stomach or something else, who could say.

Hua Yitang gave an eerie, sardonic laugh. “Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh.”

Yita said, “Heh heh heh.”

Bingsi and the other three said, “Heh heh.”

The rippling chorus of laughter, paired with Han Taiping’s expression, was quite the spectacle. Lin Sui’an noticed that with every extra word Bingsi spoke, Han Taiping’s expression grew a shade uglier. No wonder Hua Yitang had brought Yita and the others over—it turned out Bingsi and his companions were Han Taiping’s true weakness.

But why?

Having finally laughed his fill, Hua Yitang crouched down, looking level into Han Taiping’s eyes, his tone unusually gentle. “My family’s Dr. Fang has had nothing to do these past few days, so out of the goodness of his heart, he treated the wounds of some of your masked subordinates and discovered something rather interesting. Ward Chief Han’s men seem—” Hua Yitang tapped his forehead with the handle of his fan, “—not quite right in the head. Dull and foolish, able to understand only a few simple words, unable to speak. Without your commands, they can barely act on their own, just like—”

Hua Yitang pointed. “Just like Bingsi and the others from the secret vault.”

Han Taiping’s eyes trembled violently.

“And so, my Dr. Fang tested their blood, and guess what he found—right there in their blood, traces of Dragon God Fruit.”

The moment those words left his mouth, even Ling Zhiyan, who had been quietly recording everything, looked up.

Lin Sui’an thought: Oh-ho!

Hua Yitang continued, “So tell me, where do all these subordinates of yours normally live? What do they eat, what do they drink? Ah, could it be they live in the underground tunnels beneath Xiande Manor?”

Something clicked in Lin Sui’an’s mind—she thought of the strange tales surrounding Xiande Manor, of the ten vats of water and firewood that always mysteriously vanished. Could those have been meant for these men in black?

For the first time, fear appeared in Han Taiping’s eyes as he looked at Hua Yitang, as though the youth before him were some unknown monster.

Hua Yitang stood, swinging his fan as he sauntered a circle around Han Taiping. “I really was far too curious, so I brought people to dig Xiande Manor up from top to bottom. And well, wouldn’t you know it, I really did find a massive underground prison there, large enough to house a hundred people. And that’s not all—” Hua Yitang spun around smoothly and used his fan to tilt up Han Taiping’s chin. “I also found a hidden chamber within that prison, and inside it, I found this.”

Hua Yitang produced, as if by magic, a black porcelain vial from his sleeve and held it up before Han Taiping’s face. Han Taiping’s body lurched backward violently, as if he feared the object greatly.

Lin Sui’an was utterly astonished. Thinking back over the past few days, Zhu’s mother and Xiaoyu had been keeping her occupied from morning till night with chatting and strolling around—she’d had no idea Hua Yitang had uncovered so much. No, more precisely, Hua Yitang had deliberately kept her in the dark.

But why? Weren’t partners supposed to share clues with each other?

Unless there was some special reason—

Lin Sui’an’s gaze lingered on the black porcelain vial, and a guess buried deep in her subconscious slowly surfaced.

That vial contained another kind of talisman water.

“This vial contains another kind of talisman water.”

The thought in her mind and Hua Yitang’s voice rang out almost simultaneously.

Lin Sui’an sighed inwardly: just as I thought.

“Xuanming said you came to Cheng County to oversee the Dragon God Temple, but I suspect your purpose in coming here goes far beyond that.” Hua Yitang toyed with the vial in his hand, glancing sidelong at Han Taiping. “Your main purpose was to train—no, cultivate—these masked assassins.”

Han Taiping’s breathing turned ragged, his body shrinking further and further back until his spine struck the cold, pitch-black wall, and he could retreat no more.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Hua Yitang’s expression darkened, and he shook the black porcelain vial in his hand. “This talisman water can strengthen a person’s bones and muscles, but it has a side effect—it corrodes the mind. Used for too long, a person becomes nothing but a walking corpse with well-developed limbs and no ability to think, just like—” Hua Yitang’s voice dropped low, “—Qiu Wen.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Han Taiping shrieked.

“Qiu Wen was a failed product, and so you cultivated what you call the Four Beasts—Bingsi, Bing Shisi, Bing Ershisi, and Bing Sanshisi. But the same problem persists. They too have lost their sense of self, and without intervention, they will soon become the next walking corpses, utterly unable to control their own bodies, ultimately dying when their hearts burst.”

Han Taiping said, “How could you possibly know this? How do you know?!”

“Purity Fruit clears the body, celestial rays draw the star energy, Ten Purity seals the heart and soul, the Army-Breaker gives birth to new life.” Hua Yitang took a deep breath and walked over to the desk, once again lifting the “Purity” character scroll. “Your ultimate goal is to cultivate killing tools—possessed of formidable, terrifying combat strength, capable of having their remade bodies controlled at will, endowed with the capacity to think and adapt, yet entirely under your command, just like—”

Hua Yitang couldn’t finish the sentence. His throat bobbed several times, and he turned to look at Lin Sui’an, his eyes reddening, tears welling up in them that he fought hard not to let fall.

Lin Sui’an’s eyes went wide. She pointed at her own nose. “Army-Breaker? Me?”

Hua Yitang looked away. Yun Zhong Yue covered her mouth. Ling Zhiyan’s pen dropped. Yita let out an “Ah!” This time, Bingsi and the other three didn’t echo him—they all fell silent together.

Han Taiping’s expression was hard to describe—like a shocking secret desperately buried in the gutter had been casually dug up and exposed under the blazing sun, both despairing and absurd.

Lin Sui’an’s mind raced back through Hua Yitang’s reasoning: Han Taiping, and the Third Master behind him, had two main goals. First, to refine Talisman Water No. 1, to be sold for profit. Second, to refine Talisman Water No. 2, to cultivate a living weapon in human form.

The masked assassins were version 1.0, Qiu Wen was version 2.0, Bingsi and the other three had initially been version 3.0, now upgraded to version 3.5—perhaps there were more iterations in between. And based on the various characteristics of this body of hers, along with her abnormally sensitive and intense reaction to the Dragon God Fruit, the most likely conclusion was that she herself was the final version.

This deduction was utterly fantastical, but even more fantastical was the fact that Lin Sui’an realized her previous “fear of the unknown” regarding this body had, for the first time, vanished—replaced instead by a calm sense of “so that’s how it is,” and even a faint touch of smug satisfaction that whispered, “well, of course it’s me.”

When had this strange shift begun?

Hua Yitang stood quietly before her, his handsome young face glowing white in the dim prison hall, looking exactly like the bright, clear moon she had seen that one night.

[You are different from them. You are someone with backing.]

Lin Sui’an let out a soft laugh—it was probably around that time.

Perhaps it was Hua Yitang’s particular brand of theatrical flair rubbing off on her, or perhaps it was something else entirely—

Lin Sui’an didn’t dwell on it further, instead voicing the question on her mind. “So this is why you’ve been keeping me out of the investigation?”

Hua Yitang lowered his lashes and said nothing, the fan in his hand creaking under his grip.

“Well, that was wrong of you!” Lin Sui’an said. “We’re partners, aren’t we—partners who stick together through thick and thin, through life and death. How could you not trust me?”

Hua Yitang looked up sharply. “I didn’t—”

“I trust you,” Lin Sui’an said firmly. “I trust Dr. Fang, I trust Jin Ruo, I trust Adjutant Ling, Yita, Mu Xia. I trust that as long as I have all of you behind me, I won’t become the Army-Breaker—I’ll stay Lin Sui’an.”

Hua Yitang clenched his jaw, his eyes growing even redder.

Lin Sui’an stepped forward and patted Hua Yitang on the shoulder, twice. “You said all this yourself, remember? Did you forget?”

Hua Yitang looked into Lin Sui’an’s eyes and said, slowly and deliberately, “I’ll never forget it, not in this lifetime.”

“Good, that’s more like the partner worthy of me, Lin Sui’an!” She patted him again.

Hua Yitang relaxed his clenched jaw, let out a soft breath, closed his eyes to force back the emotion welling up in them, and when he opened them again, he had transformed back into that carefree, dissolute young dandy, perching himself cross-legged on the desk. He raised an eyebrow. “Han Taiping, let’s talk about the Third Master.”

Han Taiping clutched his head, his voice trembling. “I don’t know any Third Master!”

Hua Yitang clapped his hands. “Even at this point, Ward Chief Han remains so loyal to that Third Master—truly admirable. But I’ve never believed people like you could have any real loyalty. Ah, could it be you have something held over you by the Third Master? Say, perhaps—the lives of your family?”

Han Taiping’s head snapped around, terror flickering in the shadows of his eyes.

“I’ll give you two choices now. First, tell me who the Third Master is. Second, within three days, I’ll spread everything you just said across every corner of Tang, making sure everyone knows every single word came straight from your own confession. So tell me—do you think that Third Master will trust in your loyalty, or trust me?”

“You’re not human! You bastard! Hua Yitang, you’ll pay for this one day, you’ll get what’s coming to you!” Han Taiping snarled.

Lin Sui’an suddenly remembered something. “You wouldn’t happen to know Sixth Master too, would you?”

Han Taiping said, “Wh-wh-what Sixth Master?!”

“Hao Liu, of the Hao family, from Hongzhuang Ward in the Eastern Capital.”

The terror in Han Taiping’s eyes grew even more pronounced. Though he said nothing, his expression made the unspoken thought abundantly clear: How do you know that?!

“Add that one to the list too,” Lin Sui’an said. “The Sixth Master’s identity was also confessed by Han Taiping.”

Hua Yitang said, “Got it.”

“Lin Sui’an, you demon! Hua Yitang, you animal! Neither of you are human! I’ll have you both cut into a thousand pieces, your bones ground to ash!”

Amid Han Taiping’s thunderous cursing, Hua Yitang and Lin Sui’an leaned side by side against the desk, arms crossed in identical poses, wearing identical smiles as they watched, occasionally offering a comment or two.

Lin Sui’an said, “His cursing skills are nowhere near yours. No real feeling behind it.”

Hua Yitang said, “You flatter me, you flatter me.”

“Why don’t you curse a bit too, give him a demonstration?”

“I’m a county sheriff now, after all. It would hardly be proper for me to curse recklessly.”

“Don’t you think he’s been at it a while? Isn’t he tired?”

“Looks like his lips have gone dry to me.” Hua Yitang tossed the black porcelain vial to Bingsi. “Let’s help Ward Chief Han wet his throat.”

Bingsi pulled the stopper and moved to force it into Han Taiping’s mouth. Han Taiping’s cursing cut off abruptly, replaced by a shrill, desperate scream. “I only know that the Third Master is the Sect Leader of the Purity Sect!”

Lin Sui’an and Hua Yitang both threw out their backs in shock at the same instant. Ling Zhiyan’s pen punched a hole through the confession she was writing. Yun Zhong Yue’s jaw hit the floor.

Yita said, “Huh?”

Bingsi and the other three said, “Huh? Huh?”

Bonus Scene

Lying in the county government office, sunbathing, Jin Ruo sneezed and rubbed his nose.

“Who’s talking bad about me behind my back?”