To be honest, Wu Da had been a constable for many years now, and he had encountered more than a few terrifying and bizarre scenes — just take the crime scene of the “Peach Blossom Killer” five years ago. That one had been bloody and brutal in a way that gave him three consecutive days of nightmares.

But for sheer degree of terror, Wu Da had a premonition that today’s scene would give him a full month of nightmares.

At first he could still muster a shout to bolster his courage; now he was too frightened to make even a sound. He could only watch, frozen, as the skeletal hand pushed open the coffin board inch by inch, and a ghastly pale head rose up from within — a head of disheveled gray-white hair, waxen yellowed skin pulled tightly against the skull, two deeply sunken eye sockets housing a pair of dull, gray-white eyeballs, cheekbones jutting sharply, lips clenched together like a shriveled chrysanthemum, turning — slowly, slowly — until a gap opened in the mouth and a puff of smoke emerged.

Jin Ruo sucked in a breath of cold air. Wu Da’s eyes rolled back. Both men were nearly on the verge of fainting when Fang Ke suddenly let out a cold laugh. “Stop making a show of being a ghost or a spirit — look properly. That’s a living person.”

Jin Ruo and Wu Da gave a simultaneous hiccup and rallied.

The head continued to rise higher, floating gradually out of the coffin — and beneath the head hung a body: gaunt as a skeleton, draped in a wide, empty robe that had probably once been blue but had been washed to a faded, indeterminate color, the collar worn ragged and trailing threads. Most significantly, this figure did have feet — shod in a pair of battered Taoist shoes, without socks, with a yellowed big toe sticking up jauntily — a singularly carefree detail. In one hand he clutched a fly whisk that had lost most of its bristles. Taken altogether, the figure appeared to be — a Taoist priest?

“May the Infinite Heavenly Worthy grant blessings. This humble Taoist offers his salutation.”

The old Taoist’s voice was like an aged donkey grinding a mill — so grating it raised goosebumps all over the body.

Jin Ruo and Wu Da steadied each other and stood up, exhaling at length.

Oh heavens, thank goodness it’s a person.

Fang Ke’s gaze traveled up and down the old Taoist. “Who are you?”

The old Taoist: “This is naturally a funeral parlor, of course.”

“Why were you in the coffin?”

“This humble Taoist has passed the year of his destined age.”

“Where are the bodies that belong to this funeral parlor?”

“This humble Taoist’s Taoist name is Wuwei Zi, from the Xuanzhong Temple.”

Jin Ruo’s brow creased. “We finally find someone still breathing in here, and he turns out to be a deaf old man.”

“Impudence!” The old Taoist suddenly lashed out with his fly whisk, smacking it across Jin Ruo’s face. A cloud of dust puffed out. “What manner of evil spirit dares make trouble in front of this Wuwei Zi — show your true form at once!”

Jin Ruo sneezed four times in rapid succession, furious and red-faced, and nearly lunged at the man. Wu Da quickly restrained Jin Ruo. “Young Alliance Master, ease your temper — look at how the old Taoist is all skin and bones. One punch from you and he’d crumble to pieces.”

Jin Ruo gritted his teeth. “Today, you can thank your lucky stars I’m feeling merciful!”

Wuwei Zi raised his chin high, his expression supremely disdainful. “This Wuwei Zi has cultivated pure spiritual essence for fifty-eight years, and has achieved an indestructible golden body —” Jin Ruo shouted: Golden what body? Your whole body is the color of dung. “— entrusted by the abbot of Xuanzhong Temple to stand watch over this funeral parlor, to cleanse it of lingering resentful energy and bring peace to wronged souls. You lesser evil spirits — begone at once, or this humble Taoist shall summon the Nine Heavens’ thunder and lightning to strike you back to your original form!”

Jin Ruo rolled his eyes. “Let’s just go. Don’t waste any more time on this crazy old Taoist—”

Before he could finish, Fang Ke clapped him aside, folded his hands in a bow, and fixed his dark, sharp eyes on Wuwei Zi’s face. “Would the honored Taoist be so kind as to tell us — from where does this resentful energy arise?”

Wuwei Zi was not deaf this time. He shook his fly whisk with a flourish and struck a pose befitting a supremely enlightened being. “When this humble Taoist first arrived here, the yin energy in this place was extreme and the resentful energy surged up in great plumes, a miasma of foul air. This humble Taoist erected an altar for seven days and recited the Rite of Clarity nine times over — nine times nine, eighty-one incantations in all — before dispersing the resentful energy. Now, only a single thread of a wronged soul’s lingering attachment remains, circling without cease.”

“Where does the wronged soul linger?” Fang Ke asked again.

Wuwei Zi extended his fly whisk and pointed outward. “Ten li to the north. At North Cui Slope. Black vapor drifts there, and the yin energy lies heavy — that is where the wronged soul dwells.”

Fang Ke narrowed his eyes. “Would Wuwei Zi be willing to lead the way for us?”

Wuwei Zi shook his head vigorously. “This humble Taoist guards the funeral parlor and cannot leave even half a step. You may go on your own. The journey ahead is treacherous — I urge you to take extreme care—”

“Jin Ruo, Wu Constable — please escort the honored Wuwei Zi and accompany us on the road!” Fang Ke said, in a tone that brooked no argument.

Jin Ruo and Wu Da charged forward in the same instant — one on each side, they hoisted Wuwei Zi off the ground. His feet left the earth and dangled in the air. He kicked and thrashed wildly. “Impudence! Impudence! What manner of behavior is this?! You petty demons and spirits — this one has an indestructible golden body — mmph, mmph, mmph!”

Wu Da shoved a strip of old cloth into Wuwei Zi’s mouth. The motion was practiced and efficient.

As Jin Ruo grabbed hold of Wuwei Zi, he registered the old man’s weight. His expression shifted subtly. He cut a quick look at the surrounding ground — the funeral parlor was thick with dust, and every footprint was clearly visible. In particular, Wuwei Zi’s footprints showed only the ball of the foot, with no heel imprint at all.

A glimmer of understanding lit Jin Ruo’s eyes, and he smiled. “Honored Wuwei Zi, please don’t refuse — the path ahead is dangerous, and we common mortals will need someone of your divine golden body to guard our rear!”

North Cui Slope, ten li north of the funeral parlor, was a stretch of desolate wasteland — an overgrown, unconsecrated burial ground. Wild grass ran rampant. A mournful, bitter wind swept through.

When Fang Ke’s party arrived, it was near dusk. Along the line where the sky met the mountain, the horizon blazed with the crimson fire of sunset clouds, and the mounded graves across the hillside were all stained a blood-red hue. It was enough to make one’s blood run cold.

Wu Da removed the cloth from Wuwei Zi’s mouth. “Where does the wronged soul rest?”

Wuwei Zi was so enraged his face had gathered even more wrinkles, and his gray eyes looked as though they might pop from their sockets. “Demons run amok, and small-minded men hold sway — the world has eyes that see nothing — a great and monstrous error — you petty lowlifes, shameless and impudent — Nine Heavens’ thunder and lightning, wind and cloud arise, swiftly as the law commands—”

Jin Ruo drew out Ruo Jing with a metallic ring and laid it across Wuwei Zi’s throat, his expression half-smiling. “If you keep playing the fool, I won’t be so polite about it!”

Wuwei Zi snapped his mouth shut. His eyes rolled across the gleaming silver of Ruo Jing’s blade. His bearing turned solemn. “Boundless blessings of the Infinite Heavenly Worthy. To vanquish demons and subdue monsters is this humble Taoist’s sacred duty. I shall gladly keep company with these noble souls in peril. Three worthy warriors — walk north, and you will come to an old willow tree. The funeral parlor’s wronged soul sleeps beneath that tree.”

The party made their way through more than half the burial ground, stepping over countless human bones that wild dogs had dug up, until at last they saw it — an enormous weeping willow, its trunk so wide it would take four people clasping hands to encircle it, the bark deeply gnarled, the branches swaying in disarray. It looked like a great disheveled human head, and bore an uncanny resemblance to the two willows standing at the funeral parlor gate — as though those two trees had uprooted themselves and walked here.

Beneath the tree lay a dense mass of burial mounds — some high, some low — with thick weeds spreading across the entire slope.

The sky had darkened. The wind was picking up. The blades of grass turned in slow waves, like a deep sea stirred by hidden currents.

Wuwei Zi’s full head of white hair swayed in the wind like a cluster of desolate dandelions. He let out a soft sigh. “This is the place.”

Fang Ke set down his large wooden case, rolled up his sleeves, and curled the corners of his mouth. “Start digging.”

Lin Sui’an surveyed the room and heaved a deep sigh.

The main hall of the Duan family’s first courtyard was packed — full of martial world figures of every complexion and manner of dress. Among those at the front were some she recognized: Wu Chun, Alliance Chief of the Five Mound Alliance; Xi Men Yang of Ascending Immortal Sect; Feng Qiao of Duck Traders’ Gate. And some she did not: Che Song, Sect Master of Crane Immortal Sect; and Huang Tian, House Master of Yellow Nine House.

Che Song appeared to be in his early fifties, with hair beginning to go gray, dressed in a purple cloak. His complexion was ruddy and his bearing that of an otherworldly sage. Huang Tian looked every bit as his name implied — sallow and lean — the one exception being his wide, square face, with two horizontal brows and five features distributed across it as evenly as characters in a grid.

The remaining martial world figures were all disciples of the five great sects — somewhere between forty and fifty of them when all was counted, representing roughly half the martial world sects of Yidu City.

The servants, maidservants, and performers of Duan’s establishment were busily serving tea and wine, in a cheerful flurry of activity. Liu Qingxi, finding no immediate way to leave, settled beside Lin Sui’an and prepared to watch the spectacle. Lin Sui’an and Hua Yitang were seated together in the place of honor, each attended by two crimson-lipped, beautiful performers who fanned them, played music, peeled grapes — while Duan Hongning personally poured tea for the two of them, with towers of fruit and pastries built up on the table, the setup as extravagant and lavish as anyone could wish.

Lin Sui’an felt thoroughly out of place. She had the distinct sense that she currently resembled some bullying, overbearing villain, while Hua Yitang looked like a shameless, carefree boss in his element.

“Luo Alliance Chief, with such a grand and splendid show of force, you must have reached a decision about the bet you proposed to us both.” Hua Yitang tapped his small fan idly. “We are all ears.”

Wu Chun and the other four sect masters exchanged a look. He steadied his voice. “Yesterday I discussed the matter with the four sect masters and we have decided to raise the stakes. Should Lin Niangzi and Hua Fourth win today’s bet, then in addition to the Five Mound Alliance’s territory, the territories of Ascending Immortal Sect, Duck Traders’ Gate, Crane Immortal Sect, and Yellow Nine House will all pass to the Hua Family as well.”

Hua Yitang raised an eyebrow. “If I recall correctly, the territories of Ascending Immortal Sect and Duck Traders’ Gate have already been transferred to Jingmen, have they not?”

Xi Men Yang and Feng Qiao looked faintly uncomfortable. Wu Chun scratched at the bandaging around his head and quietly nudged the person beside him.

This was a young man, dressed in the uniform of the Four Directions Gambling Hall. Thin, short, with a hunched posture that made him look almost like a small hunchback, his complexion dull and yellow, and he kept his head lowered the entire time — he barely seemed to exist. Had it not been for Wu Chun’s motion, Lin Sui’an might never have noticed him at all.

The yellow-faced young man’s head swayed, like a wobbly doll, and he leaned close to Wu Chun’s ear and murmured something. Wu Chun’s eyes brightened at once. “Ascending Immortal Sect and Duck Traders’ Gate are willing to put their sects’ martial arts secret manuals in as additional wagers as well.”

Xi Men Yang and Feng Qiao’s expressions changed. They seemed on the verge of speaking, but Wu Chun shook his head at them, and they swallowed their words back down and said nothing — acquiescing.

Lin Sui’an’s brow jumped. That young man’s sallow face looked strangely familiar.

“It’s one of Yun Zhong Yue’s face disguises,” Hua Yitang murmured.

Liu Qingxi gave a muffled exclamation. “He’s Yun Zhong Yue?”

Lin Sui’an shook her head. “It doesn’t feel like him.”

Hua Yitang’s little fan took on a distinctly vinegary air. “You’ve only met Yun Zhong Yue a handful of times — are you this familiar with him?”

Lin Sui’an: “Doesn’t the way this person sits look familiar to you?”

Hua Yitang narrowed his eyes and looked again. His expression shifted. “Could it be—”

“Hua Fourth, what say you to these stakes?!” Wu Chun called out.

Hua Yitang drew his gaze from the yellow-faced young man and brought it back to Wu Chun. “I believe I said it before — whatever the bet, once placed the chips stay down, and once the fan falls there is no going back!”

“Good! Spoken like a true man!” Wu Chun clapped his hands and laughed heartily. Xi Men Yang and the others breathed out in relief.

Lin Sui’an was uneasy. “Should we not send someone to bring Iita over first?”

“Don’t worry. Judging by the scale of all this, it’s clearly not going to be the usual gambling house routine of small stakes.” Hua Yitang’s eyes gleamed with sharp light. “They’re betting with their lives!”

Liu Qingxi covered her mouth. Duan Hongning’s expression changed.

And indeed, Wu Chun’s next words were: “As they say — martial world matters are settled in the martial world’s way. We are all martial world people, so naturally we should wager as martial world people do — bet on the outcome! Bet on the winner and the loser!”

At that, Lin Sui’an actually relaxed.

Of the five sect masters present, three had already been defeated by her. The Crane Immortal Sect and Yellow Nine House masters she had not crossed hands with, but given that both followed Five Mound Alliance’s lead without question, their skills were certainly no match for Wu Chun’s — and she had slept well, was sharp and well-rested, and her stamina was at its peak. Even a five-on-one revolving battle was within her odds of winning.

Hua Yitang had evidently come to the same conclusion, for he was nearly laughing. “Wu Alliance Chief, do you mean that sincerely?”

Wu Chun waved his hand. “Hua Fourth, I believe you have not understood what I said. I am speaking of two separate bets — the bet on who wins, and the bet on who loses.”

Hua Yitang was intrigued and sat up straight. “Explain.”

“What I mean is — that is — well—” Wu Chun cleared his throat and jabbed the yellow-faced young man at his side again. “How did it go again?”

The yellow-faced young man kept his head bowed, silently producing a slip of paper from his robe and pressing it into Wu Chun’s hand. Wu Chun held up the paper and read from it:

“The rules of the wager are as follows. Both parties shall each send a representative into the arena to fight, determining winner and loser. Before the fight, both parties shall separately make a sealed blind guess as to the outcome of the fight, and write the predicted result on paper, placing it into a dice cup. After the fight concludes, the party that correctly predicted the result wins; the party that predicted incorrectly loses.”

In other words, it did not matter whether one won or lost the fight — what mattered was whether one correctly guessed who would win or lose. Lin Sui’an’s mind turned it over: this was simple enough. As long as Hua Yitang kept predicting her victory, he would win every time.

Hua Yitang raised an eyebrow. “What if both sides predict correctly?”

Wu Chun pulled half his face into a grin. “Then we win.”

“On what grounds?!” Duan Hongning burst out. “This is outrageously unfair!”

“Those are our rules. If Hua Fourth thinks them unfair, you are welcome not to bet — we will not force the matter.” Wu Chun replied.

Liu Qingxi kept shaking her head. “Lin Niangzi, this bet is far too slanted — you cannot accept it.”

Lin Sui’an said nothing, and looked at Hua Yitang. Hua Yitang also said nothing, his long lashes veiling his eyes as his fan moved with an idle, unhurried rhythm. “We must take this bet.”

Duan Hongning and Liu Qingxi were both baffled. Lin Sui’an sighed. “Do we have a chance of winning?”

Hua Yitang lifted his lashes. “Given these people’s level of skill, you will certainly win. But if I and the opposing side both predict your victory, we lose. If you deliberately throw the fight, and I predict your loss while they predict your victory, then we win.”

Lin Sui’an: “Simple enough — I just have to lose on purpose, then.”

Hua Yitang shook his head. “If the opposing side also anticipates this outcome and likewise predicts your loss, we still lose.”

Lin Sui’an: “…”

Duan Hongning: “So no matter whether Lin Niangzi wins or loses, there’s still a possibility we lose the bet?”

Hua Yitang nodded. “The crux of this wager is whether one can read what the other side is thinking.”

Duan Hongning and Liu Qingxi stared at each other.

Now this was psychological warfare — and it was not the sort of high-level game that Wu Chun and his rough-edged crew could have devised. Lin Sui’an’s eyes found the yellow-faced young man. She narrowed them.

Is it really you?

“Wu Chun,” Lin Sui’an called out, “how many rounds are you proposing? Best of five from three, best of three from two?”

Wu Chun smiled pleasantly. “Both formats are acceptable — Lin Niangzi may choose.”

“Too troublesome. One round decides everything.” Lin Sui’an picked up Qian Jing and got to her feet. “I’ll take you all five on at once.”

The room erupted. Shocked silence rippled across every face. The yellow-faced young man, who had kept his head bowed the entire time, abruptly raised it. The astonishment in his eyes was plain to see.

Lin Sui’an was delighted. Got you — surprised, are you?

Hua Yitang leapt to his feet and grabbed Lin Sui’an’s sleeve. “What are you saying? These five may be no match for you one on one, but if they converge together, what chance do you have?!”

Lin Sui’an blinked. “I am the master of Qian Jing, who has faced a hundred opponents at once. Five is hardly worth mentioning.”

Hua Yitang was furious. He yanked Lin Sui’an behind him and turned to Wu Chun. “We withdraw from the bet—”

“Hua Yitang!” Lin Sui’an gently pressed down on Hua Yitang’s shoulder and cut him off. “You always say to trust you. Sometimes, you need to trust me too.”

Hua Yitang opened his mouth. The fingers clutching Lin Sui’an’s sleeve tightened more and more. His eyes reddened. His throat worked twice. Slowly, he let go. “Be careful. Don’t get hurt.”

Lin Sui’an broke into a brilliant smile. “I won’t lose. You will definitely win!”

With that, she vaulted into the air and landed on the raised platform in the center of the courtyard, clasped her hands in a salute, and called out, “Five Masters, if you please!”

Wu Chun and the others exchanged a look, raised their weapons simultaneously, and leapt into the arena.

Duan Hongning called for paper and brush, and asked both sides to write down their sealed blind guesses. When the guesses were written, they were placed in the dice cups, sealed with strips of paper, and set side by side on a high table in the middle of the hall for all to see clearly.

The person who wrote the result for the opposing side was, as expected, the yellow-faced young man. Before putting brush to paper, he hesitated for a long while. By contrast, Hua Yitang wrote with one decisive sweep of the brush — finished at a stroke.

Duan Hongning and Liu Qingxi saw what he had written. Their jaws dropped. “That works?”

Hua Yitang snapped his fan shut, his gaze unwavering as starlight. “A guaranteed win.”

Side story:

Duan Hongning: These two are an absolute pair of lunatics!

Liu Qingxi: I think I’m going to lose my mind as well!

Ling Zhiyan: Wait — I haven’t had my turn to appear again?