“How about you?” Lu Sheng regarded Li Shunxi with a tangle of emotions. At first, befriending him had been a calculated investment. Later, the two had stood against a common foe—Ashoka Manor—and Lu Sheng had offered help when needed.
This meeting, too, was born of coincidence. If that old Officiator from Ashoka Manor had not senselessly killed one of his sect members, Lu Sheng would never have returned for vengeance. By a strange twist of fate, that vengeance led to Li Shunxi’s rescue.
Now, the man before him was no longer the ordinary mortal he once assumed him to be. Li Shunxi carried the Jade of Secrets, wielded the power of foresight, and had sworn to annihilate Ashoka Manor. It reshaped Lu Sheng’s understanding of him entirely.
“I’m going to the Central Plains. That’s where the other bearer of Spirit Giant Blood—whom Ashoka Manor is seeking—is,” Li Shunxi said.
“Brother Li is leaving. Is there someone you know in the Central Plains?” Lu Sheng asked.
“No… warrants for my arrest are everywhere now. How would anyone dare to keep me?” Li Shunxi replied with a bitter smile.
Lu Sheng paused, considering.
“In that case, go to this place. If needed, you can stay there temporarily—familiarize yourself with the land and plan your next steps.” He handed over the location of a branch established by a Soaring Eagle Squad member he had earlier dispatched to the Central Plains.
He then explained how to contact them, emphasizing the need for a disguise.
Gratitude welled in Li Shunxi’s eyes. Over the next few days, Lu Sheng arranged for the sect’s disguise expert to instruct him personally, and even prepared a large bundle of gold leaves for the journey.
Because of the vast distance, silver notes from the Northern Lands might not be accepted in the Central Plains. Though united under one court in name, real authority rested with the Noble Families dominating each region. Even the central bank’s notes carried little weight outside their own territory. It made carrying actual silver or gold far more practical.
Several days later.
A jet-black boat rested quietly upon the lake, its reflection wavering in the pale morning light. Lu Sheng stood at the harbor, seeing Li Shunxi and Bai Qiuling off personally. Before the boat, he offered his final farewell.
“Brother Lu, words cannot express my gratitude. I will repay your favor in the future!” Li Shunxi bowed deeply, hands clasped.
“What are you talking about, Brother Li! We’re brothers. Such talk is too distant!” Lu Sheng replied with open generosity. In truth, back in Twin Eagle City, he had been on the verge of leaving when he happened to save Li Shunxi by sheer coincidence.
Even if he had known Li Shunxi was there, embroiled in danger because of the cursed jade, he wasn’t certain he would have returned just for that. But such thoughts were better left unsaid. A favor sown by accident was still a favor.
“Uncle Lu… Qiuling dares not forget your grace for saving her!” Bai Qiuling said softly. Her face was pale, her spirit dimmed, yet in her eyes flickered the faint, stubborn light of revenge.
“Qiuling, I believe you’ll succeed.” Lu Sheng nodded and gently patted her shoulder.
Li Shunxi stepped forward again. “Oh yes, I worked on this through the night yesterday. I hope it’ll be of use to Brother Lu.” From his sleeve, he produced a piece of pale yellow oilcloth, rolled into a tight scroll, and placed it in Lu Sheng’s hands.
“You must open it only after you get back.” His tone was solemn, almost weary.
To create that scroll, he had spent nearly half the essence blood offered by Liu Qin to power the Jade of Secrets. He had added his own blood as well, injuring his vitality and shortening his lifespan. But at last, he could return a trace of Lu Sheng’s kindness.
Lu Sheng accepted it with mild confusion but did not open it. He simply nodded and tucked it away.
“As the mountains stand and the rivers flow, Brother Lu, we’ll meet again!” Li Shunxi saluted one final time.
“We’ll meet again!” Lu Sheng returned the gesture.
The two boarded the boat, unfurled the dark sails, and let the wind catch them. Slowly, the vessel drifted farther and farther across the lake until distance swallowed its silhouette.
Lu Sheng remained at the harbor’s edge, watching until the boat finally vanished beyond sight. Only then did he turn away.
Behind him stood Xu Chui, Ning San, and a gathered line of Soaring Eagle Squad experts, all awaiting his command.
“Sect Master, we’ve got an urgent memo from down the rung,” Xu Chui said as he stepped forward, presenting a sealed letter.
Lu Sheng broke the wax seal and opened it.
“Duel?” he murmured.
The letter concerned the Shangyang Family. Shangyang Jiuli’s younger brother, Shangyang Ce, was set to engage in a death match somewhere in the Northern Lands. With Shangyang Jiuli currently held in solitary confinement, the matter now rested on Lu Sheng’s shoulders.
But the implications were clear. ‘As a supposed Three-Vein Level Sect Master, even if others think I possess a faded Nobleman bloodline, I shouldn’t meddle in a duel of this scale. Shangyang Ce reached Four-Vein Level two years ago, and is likely at Five-Vein now. This exceeds the limits of my cover identity. I’ll simply report it to the Shangyang Family.’
With that decision made, he issued his instructions.
“Relay my orders. If anyone hears commotion in the forests near Half Leaf City, lock down the area and forbid any mortal from entering or leaving. Lift the ban only after the Twin Fire Festival,” Lu Sheng said.
“Yes, Sir.”
Xu Chui hurried off to deliver the orders.
Lu Sheng then had Ning San arrange the route back home.
Inside the horse carriage, he waited for the team to depart. Only after the wheels steadied and the carriage fell into a gentle rhythm did he retrieve the pale yellow scroll from Li Shunxi. He placed it on the table before him.
‘For him to be that serious… this must be something extraordinary.’ Pinching a corner of the cloth, he slowly unfurled it.
As the scroll opened, Lu Sheng’s eyes widened, and his breath grew heavy.
“This… this is…?”
His gaze fixed on a row of neat handwriting:
“Eight-Tuned Lucky Flower. Consuming its flower bud can nourish the five bowels and temper extreme Yang. It can also vastly strengthen inner Qi density and thickness.”
“Thousand Year Dragon Claw Vine. Cooking it into a soup can extend longevity and nourish the ligaments and bones.”
“White Jade Ginseng King. Consuming it raw with medicinal herbs can replenish life force, enhance longevity, and clear the meridians.”
One after another, the locations of each precious herb and treasure were marked across the cloth scroll. The scroll itself formed a complete map of the Northern Lands. Along its edges, written in handwriting as fine as insect tracks, were detailed notes on each herb’s growth patterns and environmental needs.
Lu Sheng made a quick count—more than a dozen rare medicinal treasures were recorded.
‘If all of these are real… this is astonishing.’
Because the Crimson Whale Sect operated its own medicinal business, and because Lu Sheng had visited the pharmacy and dispensary often, he recognized many of the names. Every one of these herbs was in high demand yet nearly impossible to obtain. They were medicines that money alone could not buy—each of them a powerful aid to inner Qi cultivation.
This was a priceless gift. A few were even legendary treasures, on par with the Vermillion Fruit.
If he could gather and consume them all, it would be an immense boost to his inner force.
Upon returning to the sect, Lu Sheng immediately sent men to investigate each of the locations marked on the map.
…………
Duke Ashoka Manor, Central Plains.
Late into the night, music drifted from behind the towering red walls of the Duke’s estate. Laughter—men’s boisterous, women’s soft and lilting—mingled with the melodies and spilled into the dark.
The manor blazed with light. In the main hall, a striking man with features that radiated both dignity and heroic vigor sat upon the central seat, watching the dancers’ fluid movements while entertaining the guests beside him.
Some of the more shameless ministers covertly slipped their hands beneath the dresses of the ladies accompanying them, maintaining composed expressions as they continued their polite conversations.
Though Duke Ashoka was already in his seventies, his appearance retained the vigor of a man in his prime. The grand Ashoka Gala he presided over tonight was one of his favored methods for drawing key ministers into his sphere of influence.
“Ashoka” meant “carefree”—and the gathering lived up to that meaning. It was a feast without restraint, filled with pleasure and indulgence.
Aside from the professional dancers, many of the women present were mortals abducted from lands far and near by the Duke’s subordinates. Some were young heiresses from powerful clans, others the daughters of lesser families, members of the aristocracy, or even beautiful village girls.
Among them were also women connected to the ministers themselves—daughters, nieces, cousins, distant relatives. Through them, alliances were forged and debts of favor formed, weaving the ministers into a tightly bound network of mutual benefit.
Duke Ashoka surveyed the revelry with deep satisfaction, downing the wine in his cup with a pleased expression.
His gaze shifted from one minister to another, finally settling on a middle-aged official in his fifties—his next target.
This man possessed an unusual appetite. He rejected all other women in favor of those from his own household: his sister, then his daughter, cousins… even his granddaughters were not spared. Every attractive woman in his family had been used by him.
Yet his entire household depended on him for survival. The righteous exterior he displayed in public concealed a depravity that emerged the moment the doors closed, turning his home into his personal playground.
Because of the value of his position, Duke Ashoka had even provided him with a steady supply of potent tonics—aphrodisiacs meant to keep his aging body vigorous and youthful.
Naturally, what the Duke gained in return far surpassed what he offered. One by one, his political enemies were eliminated.
Just as he was savoring his triumph, a young lady in pink quietly slipped into the hall and approached him from the side. She leaned close and whispered into his ear.
Duke Ashoka’s smile froze for an instant before he forced it back into place.
“Gentlemen, this little Duke must take his leave for a moment. Please make yourselves at home. Everything here is for your enjoyment,” he said as he rose.
“Your Highness, please go ahead. Don’t worry about us.”
“Indeed, indeed. Your generous hospitality has left us indebted. Please don’t delay your affairs on our account.”
“Just send us more medicine.”
Laughter erupted across the hall.
Amid the booming mirth, Duke Ashoka smiled thinly and made his way out of the main hall.
Along the side corridor, large red lanterns cast a sinister glow, staining his face in shades of crimson.
Two figures were already waiting—a man and a woman.
The man wore lavish robes adorned with gold, silver, and gemstones, his white hair betraying his age of sixty or seventy. The woman beside him possessed a seductive, voluptuous figure; her tight red dress revealed half her bosom and a long stretch of her thighs.
“Zhao Rong, Moling, speak. What happened?!” Duke Ashoka demanded, his expression darkening.
The red-clad woman, Zhao Rong, stepped forward solemnly. “In response to Your Highness… Bai Jiang has not sent word from the Northern Lands for a long time. In addition, the matter regarding the evil jade has met an obstacle. Ghost Hair also…”
“Don’t tell me the soul bells of the two Officiators are gone?” Duke Ashoka’s voice dropped to an icy tone.
Zhao Rong lowered her head in silence.
Beside her, Ye Moling spoke. “Your Highness, the most pressing matter now is identifying who is acting against Ashoka Manor. Two Officiators have disappeared—perhaps even been killed. This is an unprecedented loss in the last decade. We can always recruit more Officiators, but if the Ritual Offering is delayed, we will face severe consequences.”
“That’s right. We are entering the crucial period…” Zhao Rong added.
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