The scorching sun dragged itself across the sky, leaving only half its burning disc peeking over the horizon.
Atop a lonely mountain peak stood a decrepit building. Its heavy doors creaked as Zhen Xun pushed them open, moving with slow, uneven steps. Mud and small stones shifted beneath his feet as he entered the vast main hall. He lifted his gaze toward the window on his right.
Blood-red sunlight poured through the round-rimmed windows, casting its glow upon a lithe, long-haired silhouette standing silently at the far side.
Zhen Xun’s eyes narrowed as he took in the scene.
The hall was barren. No furniture, no pillars, not even a staircase leading upward or down—only an expanse of level ground. The floor was soaked with patches of mud, scattered stones, and the broken remnants of rotted wooden fixtures. From where he stood, he could see clearly through the round windows that circled all four walls.
Most of those windows—towering as tall as two grown men—were shattered. Their wooden frames dangled loosely, half-detached, while crooked wooden bars jutted out like forgotten spikes.
The setting sun drenched the entire hall in red, steeping the air in a quiet heaviness of defeat.
The long-haired figure stood motionlessly by one of the windows, her hand resting on the warped frame as she gazed outward. Cold wind swept through the gaps, tugging at the hem of her skirt until it floated behind her like a dark banner.
Zhen Xun frowned. From where he stood, she was little more than a pitch-black silhouette swallowed by the harsh crimson light; even the color of her dress was impossible to discern. Against the blood-red glow, her shadow seemed impossibly dark.
A pitch-black silhouette framed by a dying sun.
“I don’t like meeting you at such a place, at such a time, and under such circumstances… my dear Sister,” Zhen Xun said, his voice low and tight.
“If it weren’t absolutely necessary, I wouldn’t want to see you either,” the woman replied without turning, still looking out through the broken window.
Her voice was soft—almost feathery—so gentle that it slipped past all defenses, giving the impression of someone utterly meek and harmless. A voice that could melt vigilance without effort.
Zhen Xun’s frown tightened the moment he heard it.
“Speak. What exactly does the family intend? They summoned me here to resolve the matter, yet I’ve requested backup for so long and received nothing. Don’t tell me they expect you to help me settle it?”
“Of course not,” the woman replied with a light laugh. “Unless, of course, you personally beg me. Then I might consider lending a hand to my favorite younger brother.” Despite her words, the mockery in her tone was unmistakable.
“I don’t have much time,” Zhen Xun said, his expression hardening.
“What a dreadfully boring younger brother…” The woman turned around slowly. Her long hair billowed with the cold wind, veiling most of her face. Shadow swallowed her features, leaving only a pair of bloodshot eyes visible—glowing, unsettlingly red as they fixed themselves on Zhen Xun.
“Every time I see you, I feel the urge to kill you…”
“What a coincidence… me too.” Zhen Xun met her crimson gaze without flinching.
The two stared at each other in weighted silence, unmoving.
At last, the woman broke it. “The family has nearly finished their preparations. They can retreat at any time. You should make your own arrangements.”
Zhen Xun froze for a moment, then shut his eyes, thinking deeply.
“Why so soon?”
“Because the Shangyang Family is here as well,” she answered calmly. “The smaller groups don’t matter. But with another Noble Family moving—and moving toward the resource-poor North, no less—their intentions are obvious. So, our dear Grandpa has chosen to withdraw ahead of schedule.”
Zhen Xun drew in a deep breath, a trace of unwillingness tightening his chest.
“What about the foundations we’ve built here? The influence we’ve gathered, the entire situation…”
“With the Devil Blade in our hands, it makes no difference where we rebuild—that is our true foundation. What’s so precious about this slum? As for the factions we’ve cultivated, they’re merely mortals. Like wild grass, they’ll sprout again even after being cut down. Why should we care?”
Zhen Xun fell silent. He understood all too well: the moment they withdrew, every faction under them would lose its support and crumble. Under the assault of the Scarlet District and the other hungry powers nearby, they would collapse instantly, like a straw hut under a storm.
Centuries of effort—reduced to ashes.
After a while, he steadied himself, letting the shock settle.
“When do we leave?”
“Uncertain, but it won’t be long. News of us obtaining the Demon Blade Scarlet Dragon Tribulation has spread like wildfire. The forces we managed to lure away are already turning back. So yes… it won’t be long.”
“I… understand. I’ll make the preparations when I return,” Zhen Xun said with a weary sigh.
…………
At the Song Manor.
Dawn had only just broken. Pale gray light spread across the charred remains of the manor, brushing quietly over collapsed beams and scorched earth.
Beneath a withered tree lay three green stones, each about a foot long. They looked carelessly placed, yet together they formed a tilted triangular pattern.
The branches of the dead tree stretched outward like skeletal arms. Its trunk was pitch-black, as though soaked in soot. A few crows perched on the brittle limbs, fussing with their feathers and letting out the occasional awkward caw.
Ka-cha… ka-cha… ka-cha…
Suddenly, rhythmic footsteps echoed from afar. As the figure crossed the ash-covered ground, each step produced a crisp, snowy crunch.
A tall, burly man emerged—broad-shouldered, towering, and unmistakably bald. His head shone under the faint morning light, and even more striking than his bald scalp was the complete absence of eyebrows, mustache, or eyelashes.
Two massive choppers were strapped across his back. Dressed in black overalls with wrist guards and half-body leather armor covering his arms and chest, he cut a figure of sheer, dangerous force. His total hairlessness lent him an unsettling, predatory aura.
He approached the withered tree and gazed down at the three pieces of green stone. With a flick of his wrist, he drew out a long, cloth-wrapped object. He held it steady as he brought a flint stone to it, easily producing a spark.
Yellow-red flames flickered to life, accompanied by coils of black smoke. A sharp, pungent stench slowly seeped into the air.
Minutes slipped by.
Soon, the crows grew agitated, flapping their wings as they burst from the tree and scattered into the pale sky.
The man turned at the sound of soft footsteps. A dark figure was approaching from the distance—a woman wearing a veiled conical hat, moving quickly toward him.
“Is that External Head Lu?” the woman asked softly.
“Zhuo?” Lu Sheng asked, repeating only the surname.
“Yes. I’ve brought some of that stuff. These are all I’ve managed to gather so far—eight pieces. I’ll need more time for the rest.”
A faint smile tugged at Lu Sheng’s lips.
“Show them to me first. It’s fine if we don’t make a deal this time, but I want to see whether the goods match what I’m looking for.”
Zhuo Wenyu hesitated briefly, then nodded.
She pulled out an inner garment woven from golden thread from the pouch on her back and tossed it gently toward him.
Lu Sheng caught it with one hand. A lingering fragrance still clung to the delicate fabric.
“Is this the kind of thing you want? This was a beloved item of its original owner—golden-threaded, and centuries old.”
The moment the garment touched his skin, Lu Sheng felt faint strands of Yin Qi spreading out from it. With something this low-level, he could absorb the Yin Qi directly without even using a drop of his blood—just like the green cobblestone he’d first encountered.
He held the garment calmly, expression unchanged, pretending to examine its weave as he quietly drew in the Yin Qi flowing ceaselessly into his body.
“Alright. This counts as one item,” he said with a smile before explaining. “First, what I’m looking for is best taken from graves. The age doesn’t matter too much, but it can’t be anything too recent. Second, it must be something the owner cherished while they were alive.”
“That’s easy,” Zhuo Wenyu nodded. “I can help you find as many items like that as possible. But I hope you can help me look for something in exchange.”
“What sort of thing?” Lu Sheng asked.
“A hundred portions of human-blood wine. The blood must come from different people. The amount doesn’t need to be much—just a single drop from each person will do,” Zhuo Wenyu said, her request strangely calm.
Lu Sheng considered it for a moment.
“Deal.” In his current position, acquiring such blood wine was effortless. His only concern was what Zhuo Wenyu intended to do with it—and whether the people whose blood was used would be harmed.
But even as the worry crossed his mind, he recognized how ridiculous it sounded. If she truly possessed such fearsome abilities, she wouldn’t have been defeated so easily by someone like him—a mere mortal who hadn’t even reached the Bind Realm.
“Also… please take good care of that small cauldron,” Zhuo Wenyu said, her voice tinged with misery at the mention of it.
“Don’t worry about it,” Lu Sheng replied as he slipped the gold-threaded inner garment into the black pouch he’d brought. “What else?” He looked at her expectantly.
“Can you let me see that small cauldron first?” Zhuo Wenyu asked softly.
“Of course.” Lu Sheng drew a small black cauldron from inside his robe—the size of a palm, simple but strangely compelling. “Once you give me fifteen items, it’s yours.”
Zhuo Wenyu’s jaw tightened as she stared at it.
“Fine!”
Without delay, she began pulling things from her backpack—one after another: a cosmetic box, a copper mirror, a wooden comb, a small pillow… items once cherished by long-dead owners.
She handed them over piece by piece. Lu Sheng examined each one carefully. Out of the seven, only two carried Yin Qi—and even then, just faint traces. Disappointment flickered across his face.
“Just these? Only these two count. Including the first item, that’s a total of three.” His brows drew together.
“Only three?!” Zhuo Wenyu burst out, exasperated. She couldn’t understand why he had to be so selective. To her, all these items were essentially the same—objects once loved, buried alongside their owners.
But Lu Sheng had discarded most without hesitation.
“I’m not trying to scare you,” Lu Sheng explained evenly, “but none of the others meet what I need. And I can only decide after examining them myself.”
Zhuo Wenyu had no explanation for his strange selectiveness. Still, she had encountered countless eccentric demands in her dealings—Anomalies, demons, devils, Noble Families… all of them thrived on peculiarity. Nothing truly surprised her anymore.
But right now, only Lu Sheng could determine which items counted. She had no choice in the matter.
“Alright… in that case, we’ll count it as three items this time. Do you still want the rest? If not, I’ll take them back.”
Lu Sheng shook his head.
“Take them back.” He could tell she wasn’t able to sense Yin Qi at all. In fact, he had yet to meet anyone else who could.
If Duanmu Wan was right—that no energy waves existed naturally in this world—then what was this Yin Qi? Why could he absorb it? And why could no one else detect it?
‘Yin Qi’ was simply the name he had given it when he first discovered it. What it truly was… he still had no idea.
Under the dead tree’s shadow, the two of them agreed on the time and place for their next exchange. Zhuo Wenyu departed quickly, disappearing into the distance. Lu Sheng left just as swiftly, retracing the path he had come.
He needed to visit the Old Sect Master, Hong Mingzi, and ask in detail about the Zhen Family’s recent movements.
Lately, the conflict between the Scarlet District and the Zhen Family had grown increasingly strange. The Zhen Family, especially, had become far too quiet—and that silence was unsettling.
----
[Editor’s Note:] If you'd like to support the series and unlock more chapters, visit Patreon for early access and exclusive content.
https://www.patreon.com/taleriareads
ns216.73.216.204da2
and then Add to home screen.